


Pale Flower

by gnomeicecream, KRMalana



Series: Overwatch yakuza AU [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Arson, Assassins & Hitmen, BDSM, Blood, Consensual Somnophilia, Cooking, Criminal Investigation, Dubious Morality, F/F, F/M, Forensics, Genderfluid Character, Infiltration, LAPD, Lil Tokyo of Los Angelos, M/M, Masturbation, Murder, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Organized Crime, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Original Character(s), Phone Sex, Police Commander / Task Force Head! Jesse McCree, Sex Toys, Smoking, Torture, Violence, Voyeurism, blowjob, boyfriend clothes, cheesy pick up lines, laywer!Shuichi, power couple Hanzo/Shu, roughly modern era, safe sex, side pairing: Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Amelie Lacroix (Widowmaker), yakuza boss!Hanzo, yakuza!Shuichi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:49:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7652737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnomeicecream/pseuds/gnomeicecream, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KRMalana/pseuds/KRMalana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse McCree of the LAPD's Organized Crime Task Force is on the case. Bodies are piling up, and its up to him to find out why with the aid of a Japanese lawyer skilled in curbing yakuza activity. But is everything as it seems?</p><p>aka a Yakuza AU because of all the yakuza/mafia AU Overwatch art</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pavement

**Author's Note:**

> Shuichi is an original genderfluid character created for Overwatch by KRMalana (myth-and-mischief on tumblr) with input from gnomeicecream. Shuichi's Overwatch OC/ "canon" bio can be found here: http://myth-and-mischief.tumblr.com/post/148315159146/overwatch-oc-shuichi-shimada-shuichi-shu

At 4:32 Friday afternoon, Jesse is handed a scrap paper memo by an apologetic looking intern. _Fuck._ He reads the scribbled text “ _My office, now. Reinhardt_ ” with a feeling like his entire weekend has been drawn and quartered. _Double fuck_. He looks at the embarrassingly tall stack of manila folders already on his desk. There's no way he'll even get close to finishing it by the time his shift is up. Looks like he knows who he'll be spending the weekend with. He pushes away from his desk with a defeated sigh, bones cracking and joints popping as he stands. He ran out of coffee sometime before lunch, so he doesn't even have that to comfort himself with as he heads over to the Chief’s office. He seems to have come down with a sudden case of invisibility, as no one in the bull pen is looking at him. _Triple fuck._  


 

 He knocks twice then rocks back on his heels and works on putting on his best carefree, shit eating grin. A muffled enter sounds, and he opens the door to Chief of Police Reinhardt Wilhelm’s office. There are three other people there already. Jack Morrison works for the homicide department, and they end up getting on each others’ toes occasionally just from how the Organized Crime Division ends up with bodies on the floor so often. The other is a tall woman wearing an FBI badge who looks kind of familiar. He squints as he tries to place her.  Officier—“Holy shit! Baby Fareeha, look at you, being grown up and all! How's your momma?”

 

 Agent Fareeha Amari lets a long suffering sigh out slowly through her nose of the kind that said while she hoped this wouldn't happen, she wasn't in the least bit surprised that it had. "Mother is well. Though I think she's started to realize that the idea of retirement isn't quite agreeing with her anymore."

 

 The observation brought a short if shocking smirk to Jack's face and a bark of laughter from Reinhardt. "I warned Ana! When you've been working a job as long as we have there isn't much point in leaving." The soft accent from his German immigrant parents grew thicker in his mirth as the giant of a man leaned back in his chair. That was usually a good sign with the Chief.

 

Usually.

 

 “Let her know I was thinkin' of her. See if you can't finagle an invitation over to her place for some real food. I'd offer, but, uh, you know. Bachelor livin'.” He is still smiling, but the atmosphere has a tense undercurrent to it. “Was there somethin' you needed? I'm up to my ears in work I could be doin'.”

 

 Reinhardt sighed as he leaned against the desk, chair creaked under the shift in his weight. "It's that work that's caused me to call this meeting. The task force is making some headway. But with this rise of homicides in Little Tokyo…”  Out of the corner of his eye, Jack nods. Now that Jesse looks, the detective looks like ten miles of bad road looking down the barrel of ten more.

 

  "From your work that Reinhardt sent, it’s been concluded that the yakuza are behind the killings." Fareeha continues the conversation, thumbing through a folder in her hands. "Most likely they are some sort of statement. Or infighting. We can't be sure with the limited information, but we need to get in front of it."

 

 “Well, shit, sorry ma'am, I sent in a report sayin' that very thing a week ago. You been sittin' with your thumb up your asses this whole time?! Sorry ma'am. So, now you've decided to let me do something about it? I sure as hell could use about ten more field agents, more lab time assigned, and some goddamn, sorry ma'am, funding.”  His momma would have tanned his hide if she knew this is how he took to talking around ladies these days.

 

 "Watch it." Jack growled, arms loosening from where they had been crossed over his chest.

 

 Only the shake of Fareeha's head kept him from starting in on Jesse. Instead, she held out the folder for him to take. "As much as it might seem so, we haven't been 'sitting on our asses.' We realized we needed to find someone specialized with dealing with the yakuza: how the function, their dealings, how the branches here connect to Hawaii and eventually back to the main branches in Japan, and speak the language. We're lucky we were able to find someone so quickly. He comes highly recommended from his firm."

 

 “Firm? He's not even a cop!?” He takes the file but doesn't bother to look through it. Instead he crosses his arms and stares them down. “I don't need someone to hold my hand. With homicide, FBI and me and mine all in this, the last thing we need is some stumbling suit sticking his greenhorn fingers in the pie. If you think I can't do my job you could just say so.”

 

 "Jesse, it isn't--"

 

 "Don't, Rein." Jack interrupted. "Pull your head out of your ass, McCree. We've got bodies piling in the streets and barely any idea where to start. Gangs don't talk to people if you don't speak their language. Literally in this case. If you got someone who knows how to deal with yakuza and speak Japanese where the fuck have you been keeping 'em?"

 

 “That’s bullshit! There's been yakuza in this town since before I was born and I-”

 

 “Enough. It's done.  You will work with the lawyer we have requested. I suggest you spend the rest of the day preparing your team and organizing. Thank you for your time. Dismissed.” Fareeha starred him down.

 

 He yanks his hat off and hits it against his leg, but keeps his mouth shut. “Sirs.” He bites out. They all know the word he's actually saying. He turns on his heel and storms out.

 

It seems his invisibility with the bull pen has worn off. Everyone is staring. Bastards. Coulda warned a man. Lena Oxton gives a sheepish sort of smile as he storms passed, in no mood to return it.

 

 He looks at the clock. 4:54. Looks at his paperwork. He throws his hat on top of it and rubs his eyes rather than look at it. He just knows that it's about to get three times as complicated with no end in sight.

 

Lena pokes her head in just as he drops his hands.  “Hey McCree. Uh, heard about how they were shuffling people around. Um, did you know you're getting me on to handle your cyber-crime end of things?”

 

 “Yeah? First good news I've had today, Tracer. Starting Monday?” She nods. “Wonder who else I'm getting.”

 

 “I dunno love, but I'll keep an ear out. I'll be here all weekend clearing my tasks out.”

 

 “Won't we all be. Damn. Gonna finish some of this, then take the non-confidential home. Don't stay too late. I hear Amalie is…uh...what was it...”

 

 “Oh! Well if you really want to know.” She looks up through her lashes with a big smile. “We're trying to, you know, start a bigger family and she had some ideas. That I need to be there for, so...you know.”

 

 “Not my first time to the rodeo.” He waggles his eyebrows at her which sets her to laughing.

 

 “Oh stop.  Aren’t rodeos about riding bulls, not cows?”

 

 “Shucks now, I'm wounded. My saloon door swings both ways, sugar.”

 

 She giggles, and they shoot the shit for another few minutes. Jesse can feel his blood pressure evening out and he's thankful for it. But work is calling them both, so they get back to it. At about 7:30, Jesse has made enough headway that he can at least courier the rest back to his apartment and maybe salvage a little bit of his Friday night.

 

 Outside the bar is smoky, dirty, and crowded with the waves of heat coming off the pavement shimmering in the sunset and neon glow. Inside isn't much better, save for the efforts of an old AC unit clunking away in the ceiling. Jesse likes it though. It’s close to the police station so he can walk once he gets off, but not the sort of place he has to worry about running into coworkers and making things awkward.

 

 He dodges his way through the Friday evening crowd, music and chatter pounding in his ears. He gets pushed roughly from behind and nearly stumbles, turning to look with a scowl to tell them off...

 

Oh.

 

A cute round face smiles apologetically up at him. Really far up. She can't be more than five feet. Wearing a smart business suit and long black hair in braid. No tits to speak of but very nice hips. Her eyes are strikingly blue even in the low light of the bar. Jesse smiles back and offers his arm. She accepts and they fight the crowds, Jesse using his greater bulk as a shield till they get to the bar.

 

 “Sorry about that, darlin'. Come here often?”

 

 She looks up again with a flustered smile “No.  But I found myself in want of a drink and was drawn by the atmosphere.  Yourself?”

 

 “Usually stalking about in the evenings.”  Jesse answered as he leaned his weight casually against the high bar. She has faint hints of an accent.  “I thought it was odd I ain't seen you around before. Someone as knock out as you would certainly have caught my eye.”  He finished with one of his easy smiles that either caught his prize or allowed a brush off with no hard feelings. 

 

 Jesse knew it was the former when she tucked a soft laugh into her shoulder. Made even better when she smiled again and leaned closer with forearms braced on the bar.  “Knock out?”

 

 A grin. A wink.  He didn’t need words to let her know just how knock out she was.  "So, what do you do?"

 

 She reaches into her purse and Jesse does his best not to tense up. But she only pulls out a small black leather case stamped with cherry blossoms and removes a crisp new business card.  She takes the time to turn it around so the words are in his view and offers it with a bow. Jesse takes it with a bit of hesitation. It says Horada Shuichi, Shizaru Law Firm. Is she giving him her number already?

 

  "I work as a lawyer. I just got a new assignment from my firm to work here."

 

 "I work in law myself." He peels back his coat to show badge for a moment. "Can I buy you a drink, M...muh...Miss?" He thought for a moment he had misspoken when Horada...wait, it's the other way around, Shuichi laughs.

 

  "Male or female addressment is fine. And yes, you may." She? He? They eye his badge. Then their eyes drift lower, taking in the rest.  Another small smile as the voice is lowered for privacy.   “LAPD? You wouldn't happen to be McCree-san from the Organized Crime Task Force?"

 

 Jesse flags down bartenders and orders two margaritas before turning back, "Guilty as charged.”

 

  “I believe my firm decided to assign me to your task force due to my experience with curbing yakuza activity and international law."

 

 "Huh, I just heard a bit about that. Got the brass all sixes and sevens.”  Ho-ly shit is all Jesse can think as the realization clicked into place.  This was the lawyer that was getting attached to the task force?  He'd been expecting some stuck up prick or stumbling greenhorn.  An asshole who thought they could waltz in and run the show, until Jesse showed them exactly what their place was.  Not a cute little bombshell that could win over the entire bull pen with a single smile. And kinda a bit of a coincidence meeting them like this, so soon after hearing about them. “Well then, it's up to me to make you feel welcome, unofficial like." He lifts his drink in salute before tipping it back.

 

 "Thank you, McCree-san. I look forward to working with you." They give a pretty nod that's more like a bow, then sip experimentally at the drink. They make a puckering face at first brush, but try it again with a more pleased expression. Jesse watches a drop of condensation slide from the glass down their fingers.

 

 "You got a place to stay, Horada-san? I could walk you back. Your place or mine."

 

 "I was given a hotel room until my long term-assignment housing was finalized." They take another drink, eyes half lidded and considering over the salted rim. "Is it so dangerous here, at night? I wouldn't want to impose..."

 

 McCree frowns a bit, nods. "It's more dangerous than it used to be.  And, you'll excuse me for saying, especially for someone who looks like you right now. Might shoot first and not ask any questions later. I'd stay in at night, and travel with groups in the day. It's a right shit show, pardon my language. But I wouldn't want someone as cute and delicate as you to get themself hurt."

 

 "Oh!" They seem surprised at the end, flushing as they look away. They take another large swallow of their drink. "Thank you. For the warning, McCree-san. It is good that I was assigned with you then, and perhaps I will take you up on your offer..."

 

 McCree throws some bills on the bar, and waves to the bartenders. "Well, I suppose it’s getting late. Let me walk you on back to your hotel, darlin'." He gives his most charming, lopsided smile and tips his hat.

 

 They coyly wrap their arm around the man's elbow, for safety of course, as they push their way back through the crowd that's just getting wound up for the night. There’s even a man already passed out in the middle of the floor. Everyone ignores him and just moves around.

 

 The sun has finished setting but is still coloring the sky when they get outside. The air has cooled off and the traffic has picked up. "Thank you again, McCree-san. Would you tell me about yourself, and your unit? I know some don't like the arrival of a stranger. Would I alarm anyone, due to my appearance and background? The yakuza are a unique problem, even back home, but I would not wish to cause more issues for you."

 

 They are peaking up nervously with an unsure expression, so Jesse puts his hand over theirs with a warm smile. "Well, been working with the LAPD for eight years now. Ma is back in New Mexico, but we're from all over. Had a partner, Gabe Reyes for half of that before he got shot. Got in the gangs unit not long after. Hm. I think people'll be a bit shy at first, but they'll warm up once things settle. I expect the help you'll be giving us will far outweigh any jitters folk might have."

 

 "Thank you, McCree-san. That is assuring." They return  a smile of their own.

 

 “Jesse, please. What about yourself?”  
   
 "I was born in Hanamura, Japan, a place with as many lovely flowers as its name implies. I've been on my own since I was young. It is good you still have your mother. Despite the hardship I wanted to stay out of trouble. So I kept to school whenever I could, getting a degree in law as well as learning English." Shuichi rests his head against Jesse's arm as they wait at a crosswalk light.

 

 "I'm sure the flowers in Hanamura must be very beautiful, if they are anything like the prettiest blossom I got right here." He winks as he says, and brings Horada's knuckles up to his mouth. They pause in front of a hotel. "This your stop?"

 

 Shuichi makes a soft, confirmatory sound as they watch with a little bit of wonder at the kiss placed on their knuckles. "You flatter me greatly, McCree-san..." They glance between the door to the hotel and the American, seemingly unsure.

 

 McCree rocks back on his feet, feeling the atmosphere turn a little awkward "Well...Guess if there's nothing else...I might should be gettin' on."

 

 "Thank you again. And please see that you keep yourself safe. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow." They smile demurely before slipping inside.

 

 Jesse scratches under his hat with a bit of a rueful hangdog look. Damn. He thought for sure that was headin' somewhere. He should know by now he ain't that lucky. But it's not a complete loss. He has their number, and he'll be working with them nice and close for a good long while. Who knows what could happen.

 

 He turns his steps towards home and his pile of files, a spring in his step.

 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

 

  
 Shuichi slips into the brightly lit lobby of the hotel. He turns to give the American a tiny smile and wave to assure him that he is safely inside before heading to the elevator. The smile that wants to bloom is kept to a tiny grin, even in the privacy of the elevator, until he is in the security of the rented hotel room. It is modest in size and commodities. A cover must be as authentic as possible, especially one that is expected to last as long as this one.

 

 The suit is slipped out of and neatly put away, shimmying out of the panties before stepping in to take a shower to relax. Things tonight had not gone as planned. He had only gone to the bar to observe the local populace and gauge the mood of the city. Instead he had been recognized on sight by a former member of his own organization and had to take steps to preserve his cover.  Lucky he had literally stumbled into an alibi. Who would question a cop when they said Shuichi had been with them when the murder occurred? And one of the very officers he was going to be working with?  He takes his time washing his long hair, his body. Anticipation is building, but he goes without touching himself. 

 

 He steps into the room bare except for the towels needed to dry his long hair. Slim fingers open the main ties for his travel pack, then the secret compartment for things he'd rather not be discovered right away. A blade slipped under a pillow, a decoy blade on the bedside chair. But the toys and lube are carefully ordered on the bedside table and easily within reach. Licking at pale lips as the excitement builds, biting the flesh until it reddens as the dial on the secure phone rings in his ear. Clicks. "Good evening, Shimada-sama," he says in breathless greeting.

 

 A distracted rumbling noise comes through the phone and a few moments pass before the man on the other end speaks. “Shuichi-san. You are calling late. Do you have an explanation for yourself?” Papers rustle then go silent. He's waiting.

 

 A quick intake of breath, perhaps loud enough to be heard over the call. Toes digging into the carpet as he sits straight backed on the edge of the bed. "I visited a local bar to begin establishing a routine in the area. By happenstance I ran into Kuramochi-san. If he was not dead as reported, I expect his kobun is not either. I was forced to deal with him. But you will never believe who I bumped into right after."

 

 “I do not ask for reports only to be made to guess. I also do not want to hear from other sources of your transgressions, so for your sake I hope that you speak to me of what happened honestly and completely.”  There is a creaking noise as the man on the other end stands and the noise of cloth brushing over cloth. A door shuts. A mechanical click.  “Talk.”

 

 Shivers. Eyes fluttering shut to enjoy the timbre of his voice, the pads of his fingers pressing into his bare thigh, but no further. "I was approached by an American man whose intention was to flirt with me. He seemed familiar from the files I had reviewed on the plane. Through conversation he confirmed this, and revealed he is from the anti-gang task force to which I am assigned. Police Commander Jesse McCree."

 

 Shuichi isn't as foolish to have the information printed out and in the room with him. Or even on his phone. Each detailed has been memorized. "He told me how dangerous the area was. Especially to someone who looks Japanese. Then offered to walk me to my hotel for safety, an offer which I took...though perhaps he expected an invitation inside. I did not take the offer, since it seemed unwise to have relations with a coworker before one even officially begins working." He bites at a nail as he waits for a reply. Hoping the man on the phone remembers their own first encounter.

 

 “You let yourself be seen taking a man back to your hotel? You are shameless. You wanted to take him upstairs. Were you going to call beforehand, to ask for permission, or after, to beg for forgiveness? Lay on your stomach on the bed, feet on the floor.” He waits to hear the sounds of compliance with only quiet whispers of sound implying movement. There is a smile in his voice as he says, “You didn't give in to me nearly so nicely.”

 

 Shuichi does as he is told, phone angled to catch the sound of his movements. Not too slowly, nor too quickly with his knuckles curled near his mouth but without touching as he speaks. "If the dead man was discovered, what better cover than the cop nearby? And I had not received your permission, Shimada-sama, so there was never any intention to invite him up." He lets his weight sink into the mattress. Keeps his feet in their placement instead of spreading them. Wondering what sort of reaction he will have to a reply. "You did have a blade at my back."

 

 “Some would have found that to be sufficient reason to find their obedience. Insolent boy. You tried to convince me to pierce you with a different blade instead. You're already hard, aren't you? In the perfect position to take the spankings you deserve. When I see you next, you are going to take them.” There is a loud cracking sound from snapping leather, likely coming from his belt.

 

 A quickening of breath, a soft gasp at the snapping sound. "Have I disobeyed you, Shimada-sama?"

 

 “No. But I know how you are. You are already pulling to find the limits of your leash. Do not think I do not own you even if you are away. Hmm...Your blue vibrator. Put it in. Now.”

 

 "Hai. A-a moment, Shimada-sama." He balances on his elbows, trying to keep to the position as much as he can as he reaches for the lube with his free hand. Opening and slicking himself as quickly as he can. A quiet keen he tries to swallow as he is stretched by the toy. "T-there."

 

 “Turn the vibrator on. Do not touch yourself. Tell me about your police officer.” Hanzo hums with a little sigh to let Shuichi know he is not following his own instruction. There is a wet slick repetitive noise, but its slow and quiet.

 

 He cannot hide the gasps that drops into a moan as he turns it on. Thighs twitching and straining as he tries to keep himself still. He tries to keep his sounds quiet a moment to hear Shimada-sama's. "H-he offered to buy me a drink right away. Didn't seemed phased when he couldn't tell if I was a man or woman, or when I gave no preference. He was neutral that an outsider was being assigned to him and tried to give me a bit of an "unofficial welcome". Ah! A-almost as quickly offered to walk me back... to my place... or his."

 

 “Good. Sounds like a decent sort. So you let him take you back to your hotel. You tease.” Hanzo laughs. “And what if I gave you permission to let your police officer take his pleasure from you? It would be on the understanding that your pleasure still is mine. Do you want him? Can you imagine yourself on your knees for him? You may move the toy as you like.”

 

 "Thank you, Shimada-sama." It takes a moment to find a comfortable position for his arm. But once he does he tries to move the vibrator in time with the sounds of the hand he can hear. "I-it wouldn't do to give it to him now. If he has already shown interest, should I not cu-cultivate it? To be more use to you la-la-- ahhhh."

 

 “Shush. I'm trying to have a conversation. You can't even handle a little sensation without making such lewd noises. It would be good to have an insider on your side. I'll order more a thorough report on him sent to you. Consider your restrictions a challenge. You usually do. Mmm. You want to touch yourself now, don't you? Ask nicely.” The sounds of movement are becoming more rapid and his voice is deep and breathy despite his attempts to sound unaffected.

 

 "Please, Shimada-sama. If I cannot convince you myself, Bastion-kun will verify I have kept to restrictions and did not break your permission. It will not be the same, as good, as pleasurable as your hand on me, Shimada-sama, but if I may... May I touch myself?" The words are punctuated by an increase in his breath and gasps. Only willpower keeping him from rocking forward to rub against the bed. He doesn't want the toy inside him. He wants the man so far from him now. In his ass. Or claiming his mouth as a powerful hand would reach behind to increase the vibration to maddening speeds.

 

 “Good boy. No.” There is a deep intake of breath on the other end of the line. Arousal spiking and rising from the rush of power, knowing that he'll be obeyed. “Take the vibrator out. Get a plug, whichever size you want. Put it in and lay on your back on the bed.”

 

 A choked sob escapes him as he is denied. Pouting at the phone as he forces his eyes open and hands to obey. He hesitates a moment as he chooses the size. The one that matches his master? ...or one more of a size he could imagine this Jesse McCree to be? Sweat is licked from his upper lip as he chooses that one. Softly gasping again as he is stretched but not satisfied.

 

 Sounds of his movements arrive through the phone a moment as he settles on his back propped up and surrounded with pillows. Cock long, lean, and leaking against his stomach. "There. I'm all laid out, Shimada-sama." He trills teasingly.

 

 “Mind your tone. You're making a very cute face right now though, aren't you? Perhaps I am being to cruel. Play with your nipples. I want to hear you, so don't hold back.”

 

 "Both, at once?" Shuichi asks and waits only a moment. "I could put the phone on speaker and lay it in between..." He is already playing with one as the makes the suggestion. Teasing the soft flesh into a nub between his thumb and forefinger and ignoring the plainer nipple piercing he used while traveling.

 

 “Stop stalling and do both. Right. Now. I want to hear your whimpers. I won't be satisfied with anything less. Don't stop until I tell you, even if it makes you scream.”

 

 "Yes sir," Shuichi slips at the command in his voice, too eager to obey. His thumb shakes as he taps the phone to speaker and lays it chest, eyes slipping closed again as his fingers take to his nipples. It was one of the few things he had known about pleasing himself before he had run into the Shimada heir. But once he had discovered it... It was a liability, a weakness since every caution and concise filter went out the window when he touched them. High pitched whimpers leave his mouth and travel down the phone as his flesh hardens just at the man's command. With the memory of rough fingers and a blazing mouth on them. Flicking the tips to feel the movement and resistance at the metal piercing them.

 

 Minutes pass with only the sound of harsh gasps and groans on each side. Hanzo is no longer containing himself, letting the mutual sounds of each others pleasure spur them both on. “Oh! Oh, yes, I'm nearly there. Listening to you is so sweet. I want to be buried inside you, feeling you contract and writhe on my cock. I'd pound that pert ass of yours while you touched your nipples, see if I can make you come like that again. The sounds you made. But it’s not enough right now, is it? You need it deep and hard and you need to touch yourself. Beg, beg me again and I may let you.”

 

 Shuichi's voice is a tumble of gasps and sobs. Of trying not to buck or arch on the bed which would make the device that connected them tumble. He begs almost as soon as he is commanded. "Please, please, oh please. I remember. So powerful and strong above me. Driving me into the bed with your thrusts. Let me come with you. Let me touch, Shimada-sama!" The words trail off into whimpers. Tugging on the nipple piercings as his hips writhe in little thrusts, contracting around the plug inside him.

 

 “So good for me. Do it. Take what you need. Good boy.” Hanzo teeth click together as another groan rumbles in his throat. He'd never confess but he has his own fingers buried inside him, rubbing against his prostate as he finds release in his other hand. He stutters out a number of choppy breathes, ones that Shuichi would recognize from many other occasions of experiencing his lover reach his climax.

 

 He sobbed in relief, "Thank you, Shimada-sama!!!" One hand immediately darting to his cock. The tips of his fingers taking the head and stroking the captured length. The thumb of his other hand rubbing his nipple harshly into the piercing. Imitating how Shimada-sama liked to do the same when he released inside him. "May I, Shimada-sama?" A final beg for release.

 

 “Mmm, hai. Come for me, lotus blossom.” Hanzo says softly. He lets affection color his tone now that he is basking in the shivvery afterglow.

 

 It takes very little to follow. He comes, hard and writhing. Splattering up his belly and even decorating his own chest. For a long time there is little but Shuichi's distinct soft gasping  telling of how he lies sated and limp, little echoes  fizzing in his body. His toes curl against the sheets and he squirms as his nipples are over sensitized to the limit. The phone is finally lifted. Breathing for a few moments before he swallows and nuzzles into the pillow. "Ryu-kun."

 

 There is a quiet chuckle. “You just got dirty again right after your bath. It was good to hear from you. Was it good for you, love?” Some sort of unidentifiable sound of motion comes through.

 

 Shuichi lets out a small whine. It is true, but he is too sated at the moment to move and clean himself. "It was very good." A flush to his cheeks has yet to fade.

 

 “I am curious what it is that got you into the mood for this sort of play. Miss me already?”

 

  "I missed you before I got on the plane, Hanzo. Don't like the idea of a big, cold bed in the morning..." Muttering as he trails off, hand brushing the empty space next to him. "It was very unexpected, the chances of running into this McCree. I admit I was shocked at how forward Americans can be. And, well, he was a little... Rugged, you know. More like a cowboy in one of their movies instead of a cop."

 

 “Poor flower. I wish I was there to take care of you.” There are noises of shifting around followed by the click of the light being turned off. Getting ready to settle for the night. A moment of quiet. The other bed must be big and empty too. “Sounds very interesting. Tell me more after you see him again. Get cleaned up and get some sleep. You'll need to be sharp tomorrow. If you think there is any possibility that you've been made by our targets, abort the mission and come home.”

 

 "Hai, I will I will." He moves off the bed, stretching to enjoy the last remnants of relaxing pleasure before working the plug out with little sounds attesting to his actions. "If your gut doesn't feel right with any of the paperwork coming in, set it aside or forward it to me. I'll look it over. And once Kuromochi-san's absence is noticed someone will report to Nomura-san who will try to make a move. Grind him into the dust, Ryu-kun."

 

“You give me the nicest presents, Hana-chan. I'll save you a finger.” A yawn. “Good night.”

 

 "Who’s the sleepy one now?" A tender look softens his face as he cups both hands to hold the phone. "Good night, Hanzo-kun." There are a few moments of silently enjoying each other’s presence before he ends the call and sets the phone on the bedside table.  And tomorrow? Setting months of work into motion.


	2. Chapter 2

            Jesse awoke in an instant, clear minded. Which was utterly and unequivocally wrong. A travesty to his very nature. Hell, it was 5 am on a Saturday. A crisp shower and even more startlingly strong cup of coffee was needed to get him awake enough to make it into work, where he'd nurse at least two more cups before people thought it safe to come near him. In short, Jesse McCree did not just bounce awake raring to go.

 

Unless there was the prospect of a cute lawyer joining the team today.

 

            He grinned at the pale ceiling before running a hand through his bedhead. Bare feet padded against the dark hardwood floor as they eagerly directed him to the bathroom. He'd been surprised when he was finally able to find an apartment in the city when he joined the LAPD, even if the neighborhood kinda of run down. One look inside had revealed why. The owners had remodeled and updated the unit with a heavy Southwestern flair. Dark hardwood floors, pale but richly colored stucco walls, and a wide open floor plan and cheap laminated kitchen counters. Jesse had already been imaging bringing his cowboy décor out of storage as he snapped up the apartment before someone else could.

 

             The pipes always took their sweet time getting warm, so in the meantime Jesse brushed his teeth and trimmed up his beard. It was early, yet, so he took his time. Broke out both shampoo two-in-one and body wash for once. By the time he was covered in suds the water was good and hot. He cupped a hand over his dick, considering. He saw a flash of a shy smile and blue eyes in his mind, and lazily starts to stroke as he his imagination fills the fantasy out.

 

            They'd look just like that, eyes peaking up through long black eyelashes with their mouth around him. He'd have to widen his stance to make up for their difference in height. No, better to have them on the bed, kneeling over him. Could turn them around, watch that cute round ass slide down his cock, all that hair draping around their frame. Jesse brings his other hand up to tease the head of his cock while he pumps, heading to orgasm fast and without caring. What sort of noises would come out of that polite lil’ mouth as they rode him, bouncing to take him deeper? Quiet, breathy, desperate? Loud, wanton, eager? He comes with his own breathy little sound rumbling in his throat, his eyes closed to enjoy it as he lets the water wash suds and come away.

 

            There are only a few moments to enjoy the languid after-bliss before a toilet being flushed in a neighboring apartment sets the water to freezing. He doesn't yelp, much, as he darts to the other end of the tub to escape. Well, that probably was a sign he has been lollygagging long enough. Tossing a towel over his hair he allowed his body to air dry as he headed to the kitchen to decide on breakfast. There's enough milk for cereal that he figured he'd better use up and an apple that was still good despite hiding behind a tub of butter.

 

            If it was one good thing about being commander of the task force, it was that he wasn't required to wear a uniform. Most of the time at least. But they made up for it making him dress up in slacks and a button-down whose sleeves he immediately rolled up. Opps, had he forgotten his tie again? Jesse grins as he screwed the lid down on his thermos before heading out.

 

            He took I-10 to Downtown, traffic sluggish even at this early hour on the weekend, his mostly done files in a box on the passenger seat. The radio was tuned to the news, because he hated himself and wanted to be riled early in the mornings.

 

“- _don't really think it could be just one serial killer, right? In this short of a time-”_

_“Have you seen how many bodies have turned up in Little Tokyo alone—“_

 

            “- _but what kind of group would be targeting Asian American's? KKK? Gangs? We're opening the line to calle-_ ”

 

            Jesse switched the channel with a huff. Hell. Maybe he shoulda listened. Couldn't be worse than the rumor mill and theory shit his own team had gotten, but with fancier buzzwords.  He pulled into the LAPD parking garage just across the street from the headquarters and hauled his shit up to his office, trying not to imagine the locals and tourists going about their weekends shopping just a few streets over.  All it did was remind him of his own shot plans and how rarely he actually got to have a weekend away from work.  That, and how Lil’ Tokyo itself was visible from his office window. 

 

If anything, the bullpen was busier on a Saturday morning as people rushed through overdue paperwork, processed through the Friday night rowdies, and made ready for more of the same for Saturday night.  He's barely settled into his desk and coffee, going through the memos that have spawned in his mere hours long absence when he comes across  ' _Want to meet lawyer. Go over new bodies. Mercy_ ' on a yellow sticky note on his monitor.  Great, which ones are these?  The ones from a few days ago, or ones so new they haven’t gotten a chance to inform him yet?

 

 The thought has barely been able to rattle around in his skull before there is a crisp but steady knock on the doorframe. He puts on a grin despite the early hour. It sucked, yeah, but that didn't mean he could take it out on baby Fareeha.  Ana would have tanned his hide.  The Feds must be even bigger sticklers for appearances, since her suit is pressed and crisp. "Good morning, Commander McCree. Front desk security alerted me that the international lawyer from Japan has already arrived."

 

            “Oddly enough, already ran into 'em last night, if you believe it. Shoot, didn't give me much time to get anything together.  I don't even have a space to put them yet.”  Carding his hair into place before putting his hat back on Jesse pushed away from his desk.  “Dump their stuff in here, I guess, till we can get an office or something sorted. Gonna do the tour thing, introduce ‘em around?”

 

            "I know, Jesse. But we needed to get ahead of this before more people are hurt. And you might as well give the tour with me; been here longer than I have." For a small moment a smile draws up her lips. Memories of sticking to her mother's side when dropped by to visit old friends as a girl.

 

Jesse filled the air with small talk on the way down to the lobby.  Anything to make him appear anything but far too eager to see them.  And there they are, chatting quietly with security while waiting to be officially allowed in the premises. The temporary pass looks out of place with the crisp grey suit vest and soft blue dress shirt, with a dark blue ribbon at the end of their braid and another in place of a tie. They had brought only a briefcase with them. They smiled as they caught sight of the two and damn it all if it didn't make their eyes twinkle.

 

            “Mr. Horada, a pleasure to meet you. I am Fareeha Amari with the FBI and this is Jesse McCree, Police Commander in charge of the Organized Crime Taskforce.”

 

            “We've met. It is a pleasure to see you again, McCree san.”

 

            “Not nearly as much of a pleasure as it is to see you again, dar-OW! Woman!”

 

            “You were raised in a barn!” Fareeha hisses under her breath. “I apologize on my college’s behalf. He gets good results, or we'd have put him back in the trash where we found him years ago.”

 

            “That's plain hurtful. Don't listen to her, I am a professional. Anyway, let’s stop jawin' on the front step and get settled.” He offers his arm with a wink, earning another jab to the side. Shuichi declines by gesturing with their hands, full with a briefcase and paperwork that is only going to increase by the end of the tour.

 

            Jesse nodded at places as he mentioned them to save time until they could get down to the morgue.  “Ok, so this is the copy room. Its cursed. You can try but if it don't work the first time, get someone to help or pass the buck. This is the 'bullpen.' Most the day to day work gets done there. Oi, Tracer!”  He waved at the computer whiz as she approached, only to have her zip past him to their visitor.   

           

            “Hi love, sorry gotta run, bye love. Good to meet you I hope we get a chance to talk soon oh by the way take this it’s your form from payroll also Jack wanted to talk to you McCree later!”

 

            “Hooookay, that was Lena Oxen, who'll be working with us.  She does computers. This here is my office, you can go ahead and set your stuff down here for now.”

 

            Shuichi stood blinking at the spot that Lena had once occupied, paper still fluttering from where she placed in their hand.

 

            “If you are up to it, when we go downstairs I'd like to introduce you to Doctors Ziegler and Winston, our medical examiner and forensic guys. They got some bodies they want you to look at.”

 

            "Ah, yes. It seems it would be best to get started right away."  The briefcase was opened briefly, small fingers pushing the bright silver clasps in practiced motions to set the accumulated paperwork inside and retrieve the same business card holder Jesse had seen the night before. Jesse had looked it up last night after he'd gotten home from The Arsenal while taking a break, Shuichi's business card balanced flipping between his fingers. Apparently business cards were a _big deal_ overseas and once he'd realized how the cards were treated he tucked it safely in his wallet.

 

             "Is it correct to assume that the bodies are what led your team to believe the victims were members of the yakuza?" Shuichi asked as they tucked the holder into a pocket, smoothing the fabric with a hand.

 

             "Yes," Fareeha nodded to the visitor, waiting as Jesse scanned his ID that opened the doors to the more secure parts of the building. "An autopsy was requested on all of them due to the circumstances of their death which revealed the tattoos."

 

            They gather more paperwork as they run through an administrative gauntlet, then take the elevator down to the lab floor. The lights are bright and fluorescent on tile floors and faux cheery yellow walls. Stainless steel metal troughs and trays form orderly boxes around examination tables riddled with drainage holes.

 

            They approach a closed door marked Dr. Winston/Dr. Ziegler, and knock.  Inside the office is more yellow walls but throw rugs, plants and paintings have been conscripted to fight the sanitized orderliness. It still smells strongly of chemicals.

 

            “Howdy Winston. Zeigler said she wanted to meet Horada here, see what he had to say on our newest residence. Shuichi, this is Harold Winston Jr. Winston, Horada Shuichi.”

 

            Shuichi greeted him with a bow and a card delicate offered with both hands. "An honor, Dr. Winston."

 

            Winston seemed a little lost as he slides on his glasses from the top of his head. Jesse had always though it strange that someone who did such careful work with forensic protocols should have such large hands. The lawyer's looked positively delicate in comparison to the one that took the card. "It is good to meet you. I head the forensics here: do what tests we can, send the rest off to the lab. Beyond obvious causes of death there hasn't been a lot of evidence leading to a perpetrator, so far, but whatever we get helps. If you think any of the results can be of use just let me know and you can look them over with me."

 

             "Of course. With many little strokes a large tree is felled." The forensic scientist's grin grew at the translated proverb.

 

"Angela's already in the morgue. Just tap on the glass if she doesn't spot you right away."

 

            Dr. Angela Zeigler must have heard them talking, as she was already waiting for them at the door into the morgue. Jesse hung back with Fareeha as the same greeting ritual was initiated by Shuichi. The morgue always gave him the creeps. Angela had tried to talk him through it a couple times. The science of the profession. The care and respect the bodies were treated with. The service it provided to both the courts and families seeking answers. It was the facts, cold and hard down to his bones. Like an instinct. Whatever kept him from thinking about how a few mistakes here and there as a dumb kid, or a misstep as an adult, would have meant it was him lying on a slab.

 

 

            "I just need everyone’s signatures to mark who has seen the bodies for chain of custody," the medical examiner explains as she hands out the clipboard and pen. When Shuichi's turn came the pen hesitates a moment, making little movements in the air before they wrote their name in neat letters. A sheepish grin as they explained, "It takes me a moment still to have my brain switch from kanji to roman characters.”

           

            “There are two bodies from yesterday.” Angel nodded her thanks before she indicated two occupied tables.  Balancing a clipboard with the initial paperwork in one hand, she pulled back the sheet covering the first body.  He was a middle-aged man already sewn back up in Angela’s neat stitching and washed.  The color and expanse of the man’s extensive tattoos was only broken by his injuries and the cuts required by the autopsy.  “This is Takeyasu Sawaki. Immigrated to LA about five years ago. Worked as a manager at a local greenhouse, where he was found dead there at 5:30 am yesterday morning by a coworker. My preliminary cause of death is blunt force trauma and exsanguination from two stab wounds from a knife. Neither weapon was found on the scene according to the investigators. You'll notice that he is missing the pinky of his left hand. It was dismissed as it is an old injury, and one that it is not illogical for someone in his profession to pick up, but...”

 

            “It can be taken as a common indication of former or current yakuza membership, especially in combination with the tattoos.” Shuichi provided as they looked closer, Angela manipulating the hand so they could see it better.  “ _Yubitsume_ ; a ritual atonement for committing an offense, usually against their code of conduct.  The offender cuts off a portion, usually to the closest knuckle, and presents it to the _oyabun_ , or boss.”

 

            “They cut it off themselves?”  Fareeha asks, a little disturbed. 

 

            The lawyer nodded.  “It’s a punishment, apology, and a reminder.  It originated due to traditional swordsmanship, where the tightest grip on the hilt comes from the smallest finger.  With part of the finger missing, the grip weakens, thus weakening the man.  From this he is reminded that he is now even more dependent on his brothers and the oyabun… Since the entire pinky is gone, it took this man two or three offenses to learn this.  Was he found with a finger prosthetic?”

 

            Papers flutter as Angela double checked the itemized submission sheet.  “In this instance, no, not that I’m aware of.  Unless it was knocked off during the struggle or removed.  I did find some with some of the previous bodies however.”

 

            “The prosthetics are used frequently, especially in the modern era.  Missing portions of a finger can often be the only visual tell of yakuza members who wear clothing that hides their tattoos.”

 

             The medical examiner nods she covered the first body and they moved to the second.  He is still dressed, probably cause Angela has been up to her eyeballs in work and just hadn't been able to get to him yet. “The second body arrived a few hours ago.  This is Kuramochi Yu. Also from Japan. As of yet it has not been determined if he was here on vacation or for some other purpose. He was found last night at a bar called The Arsenal--”

 

            “What? When?”  Jesse startled at the name of his favorite bar.  Shuichi wasn’t handling it much better.  The wide eyes were even bluer against the paling face. “I was fuckin' there last night!”

 

            “The bouncer called it in.  With the Friday night crowd they assumed he passed out.  But when they went to throw him out he was found to be deceased.  There could be a reasonable explanation but the toxicology and autopsy will take time.  However…”  The man’s shirt was pulled away from his color to reveal the same style and number of tattoos as the other man.  “There’s a possibility he’s another victim.  Jack will want to talk to you, if you were there before this happened.”

 

            “...Yeah. Shit, I think I might have actually seen this poor sonofabitch and didn't think anything of it. Shit!”

 

            “I...I am sorry, McCree-san...”

 

            The officer tried to offer them a reassuring smile.  “Don't worry sweetheart, it’s not your fault and there's nothing you coulda done, but you're turning up useful already. I was gonna end the tour at Jack's anyways, but now it’s gonna be all official like. See what you can remember from last night and give a statement for us. Guess I'll be doin' the same.  Doctor, thanks for your time.”

 

            “Of course. If there's anything more I can do, I'm a phone call away.”

 

            "Once my arrival has settled down would it be possible to return, Dr. Zeigler?”  Shuichi asked.   “I have no wish to intrude on your workspace, but if you could present each of the victims in detail? There might be something more I could add that might help."

 

            The soft, polite voice even in the face of tragedy made Angela smile. "Of course. I took detailed photographs of the bodies that were already claimed. I hope we can find something somewhere." Shuichi nodded in agreement, finally turning to his hosts as they left for the meeting.

 

            “I know you only got a brief look at them just now, but is there any idea to which yakuza groups we’re dealing with?”  Fareeha poised the question as they travelled the hallways.  “It’s not extensive yet but I could take it back and run it through our new tattoo database.  Even getting them connected in this case could greatly expand our—“

 

            Her words trailed off as Shuichi shook their head, the long braid dancing down their back.  “The yakuza do not see the use of a specific set of tattoos to show affiliation to a particular gang.  Like the…”  A slim hand fluttered in the air as they tried to remember the term.  “A color of bandana to show membership to a certain gang?”

 

            “But all yakuza have tattoos?”

 

            “There is a somewhat different association with tattoos in this instance.  _Irezumi_ is a long and painful process, since the tattoos are done entirely by hand, not with a machine.  A full body suit can take decades, since the tattoo can only be added to when the member has the time and money to do so.”

 

            Jesse scratched at his beard thoughtfully.  “So it’s more about the process and symbolism and stuff?”

 

            “Yes.  Getting the tattoos is a way of proving oneself, persevere, and show determination.  As well as a one’s successes, since being able to afford _irezumi_ means one is successful in business practices.” 

 

            “ ‘Business’…”  Fareeha could only sigh at the turn of phrase, “just makes a problem for someone else somewhere.  And if it’s going to be more present in the States…”

 

            “Gonna become our problem,” Jesse finished.  “Well, this is Jack’s office.  After you, Horada-san.”

 

~*~

 

            The meeting with Jack goes about as well as expected; it takes forever and its getting on past one by the time they escape. There isn’t much to add about the victim from the bar.  Shuichi had seen him as well and even spoken to him briefly, albeit it to turn down the man’s offers to buy them a drink.  Jesse wonders if Jack had just slept at his desk last night, poor bastard. A conference room has finally been made available for their use, eventually. It's due to be cleared by Monday.  Fareeha has to step out to inform her superiors of the developments, so there isn’t much more for Jesse to show Shuichi so they head back to his office for their respective paperwork.  At least they don’t seem bothered with his poor offering of a rapidly cleared corner of is desk and a folding chair, if their cute chuckle is anything to go by. 

 

Jesse could admit that he snuck peeks at Shuichi as the lawyer filled out the paper.  And often.  They cut such a pretty profile who wouldn't want a gander?  Which was how Jesse noticed right away when Shuichi stopped writing, and started to stare pensively at the page. 

 

"Somethin' I could help with?"  Shuichi appeared to start at the sudden question.  Turning they found Jesse standing behind them glancing at the neat lines of information.  At the pen tapping at the "gender" line that had so far been left blank. 

 

Their shoulders tensed a little as they fully turned to the American.  "I... am genderfluid.  And my firm is so accommodating it’s something I haven't thought about in a workplace for a time.  But with such short notice in traveling here, I hadn't considered..."

 

"Guess if yer not shy about being out to anybody, you can just write that in and let HR worry about it."

 

"No one would take issue?"

 

"I don't think so.  I mean security should be looking at your face and badge.  And there's a hell of a lot more important stuff going on at work, like doing work, than causing you trouble."  At least Jesse hoped so.  He could think of a few old dogs scattered in the departments that might take issue. Reyes had never let them bother him back when he was a baby bi, just starting to branch out.  Clasping a slim shoulder he gave them a winning grin. "Got any preferred pronouns?  Could let the members of my team know if it helps you feel at ease?"

 

It felt good to see Shuichi visibly relax.  "Either is fine, though I dress how I am that day."

 

"I seem to recall someone telling me that at a bar last night.  You hungry?"  They—nah, _he_ nods and rises smoothly from the chair, leaving Jesse fumbling to answer the offer he just made.  “Uh, well, there’s plenty of places nearby we could walk to if you wanted. Unless you are fine with vending machine lunch.”

 

            “Walking is fine. American vending machines are...different from what I am used to.”

 

            “Ha. You mean all sugar or salt.”  Jesse opened the door to his office and lets Shuichi pass.  “Ok. Lena! We're taking lunch.”

 

            Lena waves a lazy hand. Damn. She has a cute little lunch box she's sharing with her wife Amalie. It probably has homemade food in it.  Baby Fareeha is leaning against the desk, catching up with the two. 

 

            “Fareeha, you gotta get Ana to invite me over. I'm bein' tormented.”

 

            “No one is stopping you from making a meal plan and sticking to it, Jesse. I can lend you one of mine. Being prepared is the first step to taking control.” Amalie sounds like a scary soccer mom slash Bond girl. Jesse thinks she may have it out for him. He's never hit on Lena in front of her that he knows of, though.

 

            “I need to go down to the crime scene at The Arsenal. See you around, I'll let mom know you are a helpless baby who can't feed himself.”  Damn.  Baby Fareeha’s got teeth now. 

 

            “Shuichi, darlin', save me.”

 

            But Shuichi only gives him a sheepish smile. "Knowing how to cook, even simply for yourself, shows that you know you are worth the effort. And cooking at home saves money in the end." A snicker comes from Lena's desk, and the culprit remains unknown when he shoots them a look.

 

            “Humph. Mutiny.” McCree tugs his hat over his eyes to hide his smile, then guides Shuichi out and to a noodle shop in Little Tokyo.

 

            “So. You got the rest of today and tomorrow to settle in, but things are going to be hard and fast paced after that. As it is right now, we are hoping that something at a crime scene points to a target but....yakuza makes it a smaller and larger pool to fish from at the same time.”

 

            "This is true," Shuichi agreed. His eyes wandered over the cityscape as he kept pace.  Jesse had to wonder how it compared to back home for the little lawyer. The hints of the traditional Japanese tower, the busy storefronts, the tastefully arranged plants like miniature gardens. "The most difficult aspect will be trying to find which group your victims belong to, and which group had a problem with them."

 

             "Go on." Jesse settles at an outdoor table and digs a small notebook out of his back pocket.

 

            "While they are all yakuza, the members are made up of smaller groups, and those groups are under a larger family. But it is difficult to determine at times _which_ group they belonged to. As I mentioned to the agent, a shared tattoo does not mean they belong to the same group. In addition, most yakuza activity with the United States takes place out of Hawai'i due to the distance and ethnicities. It has been difficult for both our governments to pinpoint how much yakuza activity has moved to the mainland and under who."

 

            “Well, you can put together a briefing to present on Monday and we'll start trimming down groups. Don't yakuza have official like businesses in Japan? Put Lena on tracking who has skin in the game in the states, narrow things down more. Well! Looks like we're gonna hit the ground running. Welcome to the team.”

 

~*~*~

 

           Hanzo looks at the clock on his cellphone. 2:12 AM. Some mental math translates it to 10:12 AM in LA. Shuichi would be at the police station already, then. His blossom would have been there for several hours, ready first thing in the morning, crisp and lovely, cut perfectly in a suit. He should probably get back to work as well. Tucking the phone back in his pocket he finds the garden shears.

 

            A local group is herding what’s left of the trafficking operations members to their knees on the hard concrete floor of the warehouse. Their leader has been tied to a steel beam. No one stocks chairs for this sort of work anymore. It will do though.

 

            “Nomura-san. You know why I am here.”

 

            He doesn't respond, head down and already trembling. Well, it’s to be expected. He does, in fact, already know why he is here.

 

            “This could go easier for you if you tell me more about the who you have been working for.” Hanzo wishes he had a cigarette, but he'd told Genji he would try to quit while Shuichi wasn't there to encourage his habit.

 

            "What led you to believe that, _oyabun_?" The man tries to deflect. But the motion is pointless. The way he speaks, the way he keeps his blurry gaze firmly fixed on his knees, reveals everything.

 

            There's a shuffle among the kneeling members. One wants to get up, speak out, but is silenced by another. The chastisement fails as he speaks out, "But this is just a misunderstanding right?! Aniki!”

 

            “I am not here to explain myself to you. Do you still refuse to take responsibility?” Hanzo lets the clippers scrape against the floor with a screeching noise. It is a good thing he wore a cheap suit today.

 

            "There wouldn't be any responsibility if things were left as they were!"  The one and only outburst.  “How can you take care of us when you slaughtered your own blood brother for no reason!?”

 

            “Hm. Yoshi.” Hanzo gestures for him to come over, then points to Nomura's hands. Yoshi holds them flat and steady. “Which one should you lose first, Nomura? The pinky is traditional. But it is to show remorse and you have yet to do so. Thumb, then, and we'll work our way back?”

 

            Eventually, he screams. Eventually, the oyabun hears names, shipping dates, locations. Hanzo throws his jacket over the bloody mess that's left of Nomura's face and pulls out his gun. Two shots through the jacket. Damn, he really wants that cigarette now. Yoshi goes back and begins shuffling pale and teary eyed boys into the back of trucks while others begin preparing the building. Some of them will probably never see the light of day again, but there is no need to make a spectacle of it like there had been with Nomura.

 

            Hanzo goes out to watch the lights over the water and let the breeze cool his skin. His phone tells him it’s now 2:56. Feels both like it should have taken longer and less time. He makes a call.

 

            “ _Anija! Heeey! It's like, fucking…midnight. What’s up_?”

 

            “I just wanted to hear your voice of course.”

 

            _“...Creepy. Ok, so, like, seriously, is everything alright?”_

 

            “Mmm. Fine. Had a chat with one of my managers in Osaka about shipping.”

 

            _“Did you call just to be a troll? I could be sleeping.”_

 

            “Pft. At midnight on a Sunday? No one to lure you to bed?”

 

            _“Yeah yeah fuck you. I'm at a temple! Vows of celibacy, everywhere. I think its gonna fall off from lack of use.”_

 

            “Think of it as a time to learn some self-discipline for once in your life.”

 

            “ _Nah.”_

 

            Hanzo sighs, but he can feel some tension draining as they continue to talk. Yoshi holds up a stack of papers, flashes a thumbs up. Looks like the paper trail corroborates with Nomura's story.

 

            “What have you learned?” Hanzo gets out a cigarette by habit. Thinks for a moment. Then he grins as he makes sure Genji can hear him light it.

 

            “ _Hm, I'm climbing the ranks of these ‘Talon’ guys pretty quick. It really looks like these Shimbali monks just got unlucky and are being used but...well, no one has seen Mondatta for a while. I'm pretty sure he is being held hostage so everyone else behaves. His nephew Zenyatta is kinda in charge after that, not that he's being allowed to do anything_.”

 

            “So the Shimbali government is being blackmailed into letting my goods be shipped through their channels. It makes sense. Allows it look legitimate. Now we just need to find their American contact and I expect we can finish untangling this mess.” Some of his boys begin sending the evac signal. Looks like the building is ready. This is one of Hanzo's favorite parts.

 

            “ _Yeah. Shame I had to die and all to find your info_.”

 

            “I enjoyed it.”

 

            “ _You dick_.”

 

            “Love you too. One more thing. I'll be sending the bunny in soon to plant some information and bugs at the Headquarters. Send her anything you have that can't be traced back to you, along with times it is safe in case I need to contact you again.”

 

            “ _Will do. Now if you don't mind, I'm going back to freezing my dick off on a cold floor while guarding my Mas…Uh, Zenyatta_.”

 

            “Take care. Be safe. Let me know when you get a new burner phone.”

           

            “ _Will do, will do, will do. Night, Anija.”_

 

            Hanzo grunts back a response, and flips the phone closed before throwing it through a glass window. He lights the gasoline trail on fire with the butt of his cigarette before throwing that into the flames as well.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yubitsume: the Yakuza ritual of atonement for an offense, which involves cutting a portion off the little finger. It usually starts by cutting down one knuckle/portion of the left little finger for the first offense, then the next, then switching to another finger. The act seems to have originated out of the fact in Japanese swordsmanship the grip on the hilt is tightest with the little finger, and thus is weakened with part of all of that finger removed.  
> \--Since missing portions of a finger might be the only visible sign of current or former yakuza membership, the missing portions are hidden with rather skilled prosthetics in Japan.
> 
> Irezumi: a form of traditional Japanese tattooing, which from our research seems to have been kept alive through the yakuza themselves. The puncturing is done by hand rather than machine. The process is painful and expensive, if one can find the irezumi tattooist in the first place, and can take years to complete. 
> 
> Oyabun: The head or father figure in a yakuza group.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to warn you that I (KRMalana) am in school for forensics and is a stickler for "accurate as possible" criminal investigation / forensics, although some points might be muddled for story's sake. Also little details are taken from my time living on the West Coast (albeit in Portland, OR)

“We should start now that we’re all here,” Reinhardt announces as the door clicks shut.  Amiable chatter disappears into tense focus; papers shuffling, pens clicking, and hands hovering over stacks of folders.  The rough early morning case meetings were never easy and had been made only worse by the severity of the situation dropped in their laps.  “Thank you all for working hard to make yourselves available. You’ve met Horada, who is joining us from Japan to provide insight on the yakuza.”

Shuichi stands and gives a small bow before taking her seat once again.  Slim hands wrap around an earthen mug of softly scented jasmine tea. Jesse is sitting to her right nursing a second mug of black coffee.

“Let’s start at the beginning so we’re all on the same page.”  Reinhart pulls up his own chair at the head of the conference table and pokes at the built in tablet. A flat-screen on the wall hums to life and eventually displays the same report that is sitting in front of each officer. The police chief hands the remote to Jack. 

Torbjorn grumbles. “Spinning our wheels. Wasting time. Already covered it.” Everyone ignores him.

“There is some new info to go over, and it could benefit us to see if Horada has any insights to add to what we’ve already got.” The homicide detective clicked the remove to bring up the next slide. It’s a photo of a cracked stucco and brick alleyway filled with large green dumpsters and crime scene tape.

“So the first body dropped a little over two months ago, in the alley behind an accountant’s business in Little Tokyo.  The significance of the location was lost due to the increase of crime Downtown recently, so it didn’t raise much fuss at the time.” He clicked to the next slide.

“You don’t see murders in Downtown?” Shuichi asked in the pause, eyes on the location pinned on the map on the next slide.  Colored outlines marked the borders of the Downtown area and the various districts both in and around it.  The LAPD Headquarters was highlighted with a star, right across the street from the running border of Little Tokyo.

“Downtown yes, but not in Little Tokyo.  Not like the rest of the city.  The last murder there was… six years ago now?”

Reinhardt nodded as Jack looked over.  “Yes, with the hotel manager.” 

“If we do see crime in that area, its property crimes.  Theft, burglary, vandalism. Things like that.” Jack waves his hand in an encompassing gesture, then clicks the slide forward. “The second victim was found close to the Financial District three days later.  The third and fourth were found within a few hours of each other the next day but the location was reported where the Art District and Little Tokyo overlap.  We started suspecting it after that, but it wasn’t until the ninth that we realized that the cases were all related and it cascaded from there.” 

“If I may…”  Shuichi started, with a pause to formulate her question.  “What brought the case into such focus?  I mean in comparison with the crime seen in your city.”

“Numbers,” Jesse answered as he interlaced his fingers over his stomach, leaning back in his chair.  “Before this started, whole of Downtown saw ‘bout eight murders or so in the previous six months. We had nine in two weeks. Ten more in the two months since then.” 

The most recent slide is a composite shot of all of the victims laid out in the morgue. Close ups of their tattoos are stacked up next to the vic they belong to.  Shuichi has already helped expand their information on the tattoos and prosthetics.  The traditional style and method done on the local American yakuza members suggested that they had taken trips to Japan or that the groups in LA were large enough to start having doctors and tattooists, according to the lawyer.

“What’s been determined about the latest victim, Angela?” Reindhart asks.

The medical examiner eyed the relatively few papers making up the most recent victim’s folder.  “I’ve completed the autopsy.  Aside from the missing portions of his fingers he was in relatively decent health, save for some damage to his heart and lungs from smoking.  Alcohol and some bar food in his stomach contents.  Body fluids have been submitted to toxicology but a preliminary BAC test shows he didn’t have anywhere near enough in his system for alcohol poisoning.”

Jack groaned softly and he drug a hand over his face. Another case with scant forensic evidence. “Great. So nothing until the toxicology comes back…”  He might have left it at that if he hadn’t caught the look that passed over Angela’s face.  “What else?”

“Detective Morrison, you know I am unwilling to speculate- “

“Get on with it.”

Winston’s broad hand covered her smaller one for a quick pat.  “Could at least give us something to work on until the results come back.”

She sighed, but began to pull photographs out of the folder, indicating the areas as she spoke.  “It’s the appearance of the lining of the stomach, continuing all the way up to the mouth.  Like it’s been irritated.  And the heart as well.  Not like a heart attack, maybe an arrhythmia?  I need to do some microscopic examinations of the heart tissue, yet it seems…”  Another hesitation.  “It could be a type of poison.” 

“That’s not anything at all like the others. It’s been blunt force trauma, stabbings, gang stuff. What are the odds this guy is unrelated?” Jesse flips back several pages.

“It’s something to consider…but he fits our victim profile; has yakuza tattoos. It could simply be our murderer or murderers have expanded their tactics.” Jack clicks forward again to a spreadsheet. “Lena, what have we got on yakuza groups with business in the area?”

“I’m still making some calls and waiting on some warrants, but I have managed to track some of the earliest victims’ place of employment to some Japanese corporations. We hit some luck with that. The club victim, oh well, I guess there are two now, but the first one, that club is owned by the Sumitomo company. The yakuza group Inagawa has a lot of stock in that company and some members on the board. Both operate out of Tokyo.”

“A way for moving and laundering illegal money through legal businesses.” Shuichi adds.

“Right love. Second we have the Shimada group. They work out of Hanamura, but have shipping operations in Osaka. A few of our victims have been from that area.”

“So’s the lawyer. That’s mighty convenient.” Torbjorn looks at Shuichi from under his brushy eyebrows. “Japans a small place but not _that_ small.”

“Hey now--“

“No, it’s alright. He has a point.”  Shuichi turned to the gruff man, unruffled.  “Yes, there is a large yakuza presence where I am from.  Growing up with the danger on my doorstep is why I have spent my career trying to get corrupt hands out of politics. I’m very familiar with the Shimada-gumi and how they operate.”

“Isn’t that some kind of, I dunno, conflict of interests?”

“You have sent plenty of your own countrymen to prison, Lindholm-san.”

“Didn’t used to be neighbors with ‘em’”

“Ok, that’s enough. Settle down. Sorry Lena, go on.” Reinhart waves her on with a smile to break the tension. It doesn’t work.

“…Ok. So. Right. Shimada-gumi. Big into arms dealing. They buy guns out of the states and ship in drugs. Kinda a bit old fashioned, even for traditionalist yakuza types.”  Their computer expert scratches her head with a shrug.

“That’s because of how lucrative guns are for them.  Gun regulation is very strict in my country; most citizens can’t own one due to the difficulty of getting one.” Shuichi explains.  “Last year we had eight gun related cases, with one dead and three injured. The year before saw six gun related deaths.”

“In… Tokyo?” Winston wondered, brow raising at the low number.

“In all of Japan.”  Mutters and whistles sounded around the table.  Sounded like a dream.  They could see that many dead in a few weeks in just one city, let alone the entire country.

“And those are who I have so far, but…if they are just the ones being targeted, we still don’t know who else we are dealing with. Do the Inagawa or the Shimada have rivals or enemies in the States?”

“They might,” Shuichi supposes, “both our countries are still having difficulty in determining which groups have expanded into the States.  The yakuza will hire outsiders, like the Triads and Korean or Vietnamese gangs, for muscle in the States.  Perhaps they turned on them wanting the territory for themselves?  I’d also suggest the Yamaguchi-gumi.”

“Yes,” Fareeha agreed, “they’ve already been a concern, though not specifically in LA--”

Torbjorn thick hands thumped on the table.  “You been holding out this whole time!?  Just like the Feds to keep us running around blind!”

“Tor,” the warning came from the head of the table.  Reindhart shifted subtly in his chair as he gave the man a look.  “She would have told us if this group was the perpetrator.  Now, what makes you suggest them yet not suspect them?”

It was Shuichi who answered, hands emphasizing points as she spoke.  “The Yamaguchi-gumi are the largest yakuza group.  While the groups are not currently banned, Japan is finally trying to pressure and restrain the yakuza.  Your country is helping as well; they’ve frozen the assets of several high ranking yakuza groups and members in the past few years.  This includes the former Yamaguchi boss, and the current one along with his second-in-command.”

Lena whistled, “And I bet it’s not some pocket change either.  That’d make anyone mad.”

“Potentially.  However, the bigger concern happened last year when the Yamaguchi-gumi splintered into two factions.  My country has been fearing a gang war that might result from such a split.  Especially after the boss of one of those groups was bludgeoned to death a few months after the split.”  The hands settled on the table, one tucked under the other.  “I apologize, that does not answer why your city is seeing so many deaths.  Perhaps one of the groups is thinking of moving their operations over here, and are getting rid of competition?”

“That’s more information we had then before.”  Jack reassured the lawyer before turning to their computer tech.  “Thanks Lena. Keep working on following the money.  Torbjorn, you’re up.”

“The streets don’t know nothing. Whoever we are dealing with is playing close to the chest, probably keeping operations in-house. None of my contacts had any idea that something was going to go down. Regular crimes going quiet. No one wants any of this to notice them.”

“You were talking pretty big for someone who’s got a fat load of nothing.” Jesse says. He tries to put his feet on the table only to get smacked down by Jack.

“Can it, cowboy. And don’t you start!” He barks when Torbjorn opens his mouth. “It looks like from that both our problems are imported. The best thing we can do is try to find who our players here are.”

“Groups like these work in tight knit lil’ units. So we talk to the people our vics knew...We are probably going to be talking to people in the know.”  Jesse observed.  Then immediately shut his mouth.  Because being the one to suggest it usually meant being the one assigned to it.

“Make interviewing friends, family the top priority. Take your lawyer with you.”  Yep.  There it was.  _Thank you Jack_.  “Lena, check the tips line, see if anything worthwhile has come in.  Lindholm, we need you to organize the witness statements we already have, cross check when the new ones come in. Got anything to add, Winston, Angela?”

“The lack of forensics means we’re dealing with skilled people.  They’re either that experienced, or informed.”  Thick fingers shoved the glasses back up Winston’s nose.  “But that means they’ll get confident.  Slip up somewhere.  Keep doing your due diligence at the crime scenes, and we’ll eventually get something.” 

“Anything else?”  Jack waited for a reply from the team, then turned once again to the lawyer.  “You’re up, Horada, if you’ve got anything else.”

“Well _I’ve_ got something else.”  Torbjorn demanded before Shuichi could fully stand.  “Why?  Why are they over here?  And how come they’re dropping on our turf?”

“I can only offer possibilities,” the lawyer softly explained, accepting the clicker with a nod.  Taking a moment to find the slide, she pulled up the overall map of Los Angeles county.  “In the past the yakuza were mainly focused in Hawaii, since it is both a midway point to mainland Americas as well as the ease of blending in.  This could be the next step.  I believe your state has the only “Japantowns” in the entire country, including your Little Tokyo.  With Chinatown and Koreatown so close by, it would be easy to hide yakuza members in the population.”

Waist length dark rippled as Shuichi turned to the slide, a sharp contrast to the red of her suit.  A few clicks zoomed in on the map.  “Your city is one of the largest in the States, yes?  Not only do you have an international airport, there is the international sea port.”  This must have been what she’d been up to the last couple of days.  Looking, thinking, using her experience prosecuting the yakuza in Japan to anticipate how they thought.  “I believe there is also a train station.  And the… Amari-san?  The corridor you were telling me about?”

“The I-5 Corridor,” Fareeha answered.  “It travels up and down the entire west coast, right up the Canadian and Mexican borders.”

“And through some of the major cities, including other ports and airports.  Ideal for shipping goods and people both into and out of the country.  Which might also explain why these murders are happening.”

“Ah!”  Jesse crooned as it clicked.  “So someone wants control of it from someone else, or everyone is gunning in the power vacuum.  Which is why all the vics are yakuza.”

“Mm.”  With one last glance at the slide, Shuichi turned to look at the gathered forces.  “Or someone really wants to get your attention.  This is right on your doorstep, literally, with how close Little Tokyo is.”

“Can’t agree more, darlin’.  Unless there’s anything else?”  With a shake of their heads, everyone packs up to get to work.  Shuichi lingers, watching the map until the screen turns off.  Slinging an arm over her shoulder causes her to jump and Jesse to smile apologetically.  “Don’t mind Tor.  He’s grumpy with everyone.  You did great.”

“Thank you, McCree-san...”

They’re heading back to his office when an intern hands him a handwritten memo from petty crime. There’s have something they want him to look at.  The sigh draws the little lawyer’s attention.  “Might as well tag along.  If it’s nothing much we can get on the interviews.  Maybe they’ll feel more talkative with someone from the old country helping out.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

Jesse grabbed the folder from security as they let them into the jail. The first page has a mugshot of the kid they going to interview. Arrested on charges of theft, $5500 worth in small electronics that are due for a look over by Tracer. Age 19, Japanese-Korean, non-citizen. Must be why they decided to call him up.

 

“Oh, she’s just a kid.” Jesse jumps a little. Shuichi had apparently tucked up against his side to read over the file as well.

 

“Eh, older then I was when I started my glorious life of crime.”

 

“ _McCree-san_.”

 

“Ah, sorry. So, think she is a hardened yakuza criminal, leaving trails of bodies?”

 

“Hmm. Those of Korean descent are often discriminated against by my countrymen.” Her usually composed expression faltered, as if the idea bothered her. "Yakuza recruit heavily from that demographic. Women are also often trafficked as sex workers in other countries by any number of gangs throughout Asia.  What if that was how she was brought into the States?”

 

“Well. If that's the case might be she'll open up to us, though I got a feeling it's not. Let’s go say hello.” Jesse leaves the file on the intake officer’s desk and saunters into short-term. There’s already a conversation in progress and a lively one at that.

 

“So public space built with everybody taxes gotta belong to the people, not to corporations. They come in, tear down our homes, break up our communities, and then tell us we don't belong there!”  The passionate voice bounced through the bars, its owner leaning against the side of the cell to talk to the only other occupant two cells over. 

 

"I mean.... gosh." A young woman's voice answered. "Kicking people out and giving them nowhere to go? I never thought about it... Just went and shopped, you know?"

 

“You gotta get informed! Whole system is rigged! I shouldn't even be in jail. I was peacefully protesting as is my right as a 'Merican citizen but if you’re dark, suddenly people think a mic looks like a gun and the pepper-spray comes out. Oh, hey, cops.”

 

“That mic was connected to speakers that were booming at double the decibel limit for ‘disturbing the peace’,” Jesse drawls. They pass the cell containing a young man in neon green hipster clothes with dreads and...bare feet. Oh right, rollerblades guy.  The jail issue flip flops must be kicked off somewhere.   He clicked his tongue after a grin, realizing at the last moment that firing off some finger-guns might not be the best idea. 

 

“You got me in here for something petty like that, while Vishkar is bringing in bulldozers despite the petition from the community to protect the historical buildings. Ain't seeing any cops stopping them, just people and their voices, so we gotta-”

 

“Alright, alright.  I got it. Not here for you.”  There’s something about the interaction between Jesse and the young man that makes it sound like it’s not the first time he’s been brought in.  A quick glance at Hana while the American was preoccupied showed that there had been something else was going on in the conversation. Shu files that and the name Vishkar away for later. They finally stop at the cell occupied by one Hana Song. Leaning against the far wall with a sulky expression, her mugshot had done nothing to catch the bright pink of the whisker marks on her cheeks. It's hard to tell if they're tattoos or makeup. Her first, equally sulky words are: "Can I go now?"  Followed just as quickly with, “It is _so_ not cool in here.”

 

"We were hoping to ask you a few questions--"

 

"You don't have to talk if you don't wanna! Fifth!” The warnings come from the other cell.  “And without your lawyer present.  You gotta witness here too."

 

That brought a smile to Shuichi's face. She fishes a business card out and presents it. Hana remains where she is.  "While I am not your court appointed attorney, I am a lawyer." She began to speak in Japanese, then something Jesse didn't recognize that was probably Korean.  That had Hana reacting and was soon talking back in the same language.

 

Jesse rocks on his feet while the two converse, feeling like an awkward third wheel. On the bright side, this is a great practice run for later when they'll be talking to actual criminals instead of baby ner'do'wells. He takes out his notebook to look like he's participating, but it’s actually to distract himself from the thought that Shuichi firing off in several different languages is kinda hot.  Makes him wonder what kind of language she’d lose herself in while writhing on his--

 

"McCree, Jesse." His name catches his attention as Shuichi gestures to him. "As he said, we just want to ask you a few questions Hana-chan. I can translate, or advise you on law if you're comfortable, or find someone for you."

 

"Nah. I took English as a kid, so it's cool." She switched her attention to Jesse. Eyeing him up and down. Judging with a smirk at her lips.  Ah kids.  With the guts to try anything but often without the foresight to match it. "Guess it depends on what you want to know."

 

“It doesn't look like you are from 'round here, Miss Song. How long you been in town?” Jesse puts his notebook back in his pocket. Wouldn't do to look closed off.

 

"LA? Dunno, week or two? Been kind of busy to keep track of time." The answer is hesitant. Not quite looking him in the eye. Probably doesn't want to implicate herself any further if she can help it. Or lying.

 

 "And before then?" Shuichi slips in the next question with ease. "Do you have family in the States?"

 

 "Well... I thought I did. And they..." Embarrassed now. Angry and ashamed. Her arms crossed over her chest.  An unconscious tactic to protect oneself and regain control, Gabriel had told him once.  "They--! Stupid freaking--! I just got out of there. Kinda didn't realize I had nowhere to go until I needed money to get there."

 

“So you thought the best course of action was to knock over a delivery truck?” Jesse tried to sound sympathetic, really. It doesn't come natural. Shuichi gives him an unhappy look. Oops. “So, who are your folks? We can give em a call, see if they'll post your bail.”

 

"Would have taken my phone call before now if they were still alive." Hana shrugs, trying to show nonchalance at the fact she's got nowhere to go. Well shit.  _Wish Gabe was still here_.  He always knew how to deal with people a whole lot better than Jesse could. It had been a marvel to watch him work.  Lull them in with a genuine sense of connection or concern.  Then strike, catching them in a lie or something else to make them talk.  And it wasn’t all bad either.  He knew just when to stop treating them like a suspect and when to treat them like a person.  How else would he gotten Jesse out a gang and into the police force he always rebelled against? "I take care of myself." 

 

“In one to two years, depends on what happens once you get a court date. Now, there might be a few things I could do about that. But ya see, I gotta give ‘em something in return. You notice anyone else new in town, rustling things up?”

 

The young woman's eyes grow wide. "What? You mean snitch?"

 

"Hana-chan," taking a step forward, Shuichi speaks up. "I know how it can be made out to be, to exchange information. But why not think of yourself? One conviction, even a small one, can drastically alter your future. What types of jobs you can get, where you can live? How long have you known these people? Not long, from what I can guess."

 

Wanting to contest, Hana clamped her mouth shut as she realized it might only implicate her more. But Jesse could see the gears turning. It was true. Those who hadn't been in a gang long, or had little worth, were rolled on easily to protect the group.

 

Shuichi drove the point home. "Most likely, these people would easily give you up if they were here."

 

"If... if I did... say... you know. Talk?" _Bingo._

 

"I cannot say for certain, since I am not a lawyer in this country." Shuichi turned to Jesse. "But I imagine as a first offense with her age, and if the information is helpful, she might be charged with a lesser offense?"

 

“Sure, plea bargaining happens all the time. Might even be able to skip outa here a free woman.” Jesse rocks back on his heels slowly with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops. “And you'll be helping keep people alive, if that matters to ya.”

 

That offer, however, catches the young man’s attention.  “A verbal contract ain't worth the paper it’s written on! Get it in writing. Make sure its signed by at least two witnesses! Define the terms they offering and what you giving in exchange.”  And then the grin widens even more.  “Make sure this guy even has the authority to offer what he's sayin'.”

 

“I like him,” Shuichi declares softly.  Of course the lawyer would like a more-informed-than- usual resident of the jail. 

 

“We were gonna do that. What kinda operation do you think we're runnin' here.”

 

The way his eyebrow almost disappears into the dark hairline has Jesse groaning. “Want me to answer that, amigo?”

 

“...Right. Shu, you wanna legal this up?”

 

Shuichi slips out to make the phone call. It takes about a half hour for an assistant district attorney to show up with the paperwork, harried and a little bewildered why he's made to go through all this work. Some extensive legal jargon that Jesse doesn’t bother to keep up with from Shuichi has everything hammered out. In exchange for the information Hana would a pay a small fine, or if unable to do so, be able to work it off through community service.

 

 "I want him to sign it too," Hana demands as she gets to the line recording those witnesses the plea bargain. It took the ADA a moment to realize she means her jail mate. Lucio Correia dos Santos is flourished across the line, with a little frog’s face dotting the I in response to the bunny ears on Hana's h.

 

“Ok then. Hopefully you got something worth all this fuss, Ms. Song. All this doesn't go through if your info doesn't lead to any arrests.” Jesse has pulled up a seat on an overturned bucket, notebook back in his hand as he works to pass the time. Why isn't there any coffee...

 

"Alright, here's what I got. So I'm trying to find a way to make something, get by. You know the drill. Then I get a tip." Hana starts building up to it, like most kids these days. "Things have been getting awful busy down at the docks. More than usual, more cargo, more at night. That much stuff moving in and out, I figured no one is gonna miss stuff here and there."

 

Jesse makes a keep going gesture. First time through its best to just let em tell it like they want to. Second you go for details. Third time is to see if the story stays the same, if they remember any more details or forget what they have already said. Lies start to stand out. Not that small fry here will need that thorough of an investigation.

 

"So I went down to check it out. And I mean at first it looks like a good tip." Her eyes go a little bit wider, hands motioning in attempt to convey the scale. "Lots of stuff. Whole palettes of those computers, you know the ones that look legit.  But they break super quick? But they're taking the pallets apart, splitting them between vans." Shuichi is starting to nod. A glance between them tells Jesse it's likely a yakuza tactic. Probably to move goods about.

 

"So you decided to get one of the vans?"

 

"I thiiiink they'd notice a whole van going missing. But then again, they left it unlocked." A shrug narrows her shoulders for a moment. As if she can't believe either that they'd be so cautious and so stupid at the same time. Then a pout covers her face. "Course the one I pick doesn't have any cargo. Just a bunch of personal electronics; laptops, tablets, phones, but high end. But I thought I heard something and got spooked, grabbed what I could so it wouldn't be a bust."

 

“Was this right by where you were picked up?” Jesse thinks back to her file. She was near a few shipping docks, clustered as they were by the airport. “You think you'll recognize some faces if you saw ‘em again?”

 

"Yeah." Hana is sitting down now.  Sliding further down in her seat, hands jammed in her pockets, annoyed that she'd gotten caught so quickly after the steal but also a little... relieved. "Maybe I could? Was dark but I had to watch them a while to back sure the coast was clear."

 

"Did anything stand out to you while you were there?" Shuichi asks.

 

"Ummmmmm, one _big_ guy who was lifting all the stuff. He had this belly that was just huge. But... breathing all funny. Oh! And another one was walking weird. It sounded like a peg leg, but like, who has a peg leg?"

 

For a moment the thought stuck him as odd she was remembering sounds more. Then it hit him. Of course. With how poor the light could be, she would have remembered sounds better.  _The weirdest things stick in people’s memory_ , Gabe says. 

 

"You might wanna look through the stuff you took off me too."  The remark strikes Jesse as odd for a moment before he considers.  Between her age and what she had been saying, she had an eye for electronics.  If she really had grabbed personal electronics instead of brand new merchandise, there could be a wealth of information.  He makes a note get the items into Lena’s hands quicker, if she doesn’t have them already. 

 

They go through it again, getting some numbers of guys, descriptions of the vans, partial license plates, time of day and more before Jesse stands up with a little groan.  “Ok. I'm gonna talk to Amanda about letting you out. Don't skip town, keep in contact. We'll probably want you to ID some guys for us later.”

 

"Sure, sure." She says almost flippantly. There's definitely a big change that's come over her if she feels calm enough to cock an attitude. Maybe she's one of the ones that just needs a good scare to get straightened out. "I just want out. And a _shower_. Bleh."

 

Shuichi doesn't rise to follow Jesse, instead giving him a quick smile. "I just wanted to talk to Miss Song a little bit more. I'll be right behind you."

 

He gives a two fingered salute before closing the door behind him, paperwork in hand.

 

"Miss Song. And you as well, Mr. dos Santos" Shuichi turns so that Lucio is in her field of view as well. A little spark to her eye. "I was wondering if you would consider an offer..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Shuichi's mentions about the number of gun related deaths in Japan are true, although the number for 2015 was harder to find. Because of this, gun violence can mostly be linked to yakuza activity. (Japan, however, has a high number of suicides. But even that, however, is because some deaths might not be properly investigated / incorrectly labelled a suicide). The statements related to the Yamaguchi and the last murder in Little Tokyo are also true. 
> 
> -LA crime stats mentioned in the chapter are based on the last six months in the city and taken from this interactive LA crime map: http://maps.latimes.com/crime/
> 
> -An interesting site concerning the gentrification of LA, http://la.curbed.com/la-gentrification


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've just posted a second fic that is going to be a collection of side stories and scenes related to this fic. 
> 
> We highly recommend that you reader "Radiant Blossoms Chapter 1: Lucio's First Day" before proceeding with the chapter.
> 
> TW: for transphobic bullying via a cop towards Shuichi
> 
> Art for human Bastion and Ganymede can be found on KRMalana's tumblr: http://myth-and-mischief.tumblr.com/post/155143354941/initial-concept-art-of-ganymede-and-the-back-of

The formal dining table was one of the impersonal, professionally decorated touches that the condo came with. It sat in between the kitchen island and the floor-to-ceiling windows with a geometric black and white rug underneath and a large expensive oil painting above. Shuichi had done what she could by adding one of her own bright floral centerpiece, but like the rest of the place there was only so much one could do to infuse life into such aggressively minimalist trophy real estate.

 

            Bastion is hovering while trying to look like he isn’t by finding things that needed doing in the kitchen. Once strengthened with her first cup of morning tea, Shuichi can ignore the behavior. It has become familiar after three years. Ganymede sits next to her, making art out of his rice and eggs instead of eating it.

 

            "Koukanchou," she stresses every syllable. She doesn’t look up from her own breakfast. She doesn't need to. He might not have been under their protection very long but the young teen has picked up a few things. "Eat your eggs."

 

             And she hear his impish grin as he sing songs "Who?"

 

            "Ganymede," her own mouth can't help twitching into a smile. Not at all in part due to the bright yellow shade he insists on dying his hair.  A ‘cool, fun new look’ from Uncle Genji before he had gone undercover. "Eat your eggs."

 

            "But they're _cooked._ "

 

            "The Americans do something with their eggs that make them unsafe to eat like we usually do. Bastion-san made the yolks runny for you."

 

            Bastion walks by, a briefcase in one hand and soy sauce in the other. The first is set down by Shu, the second by Gany, with a light rap of his knuckles against the shaved sides of his skull. He points to his breakfast sharply, then taps his wrist, and finally makes another gesture that Ganymede knows means ‘ _work_ ’.

 

            He pouts before finally taking a bite.  “Yeah, fine ok. What are you doing today, Onee-chan?”

 

            "I am still officially doing interviews with McCree." She turns to Bastion, a look passing between them. "So far, most actually working in the businesses here either have no idea what’s happening or have been trying to contact us unsuccessfully.  Hanzo has the final call. But I am worried about the temple here, so I'm hoping to go there today."

 

 _'Have you heard more from the oyabun?_ ' Bastion signs quickly with one hand, the other pushing Gany's chair back in when he tries to sneak away without finishing.

 

            "Scheduled to contact him today. Updates both directions."

 

            The young teenager turns excitedly, “Ask him if he’s got anything for me.  Or I could come with you!  You know, covertly.  Could talk with people.”  Shu’s brows rise at the suggestion that a young teenager with a bright yellow dyed mohawk could be anything close to covert. 

 

            “I think it’s a little bit advanced for you yet,” Shu  even as the teen slouches back over his breakfast.  It’s been hard to keep him hidden under their protection when he is so eager.  “But I’ll certainly ask Ryu-sama if he will approve the changes in your training.”

 

            Shuichi's phone chimes and she picks it up. The bright pink icon is all she needs to see. "Bunny is here. Come say hi Gany-kun. She'll get a kick out of your hair.”  That at least gets him excited again. 

 

            By the time Shu finishes getting her things together with the help of Bastion and Gany the car is already waiting outside. Hana has her legs hanging out the driver’s side window as she plays on a handheld. Bastion is sent back in to get the Shu’s laptop that she forgot while Gany starts to chatter excitedly in very basic Korean.

 

            “Hey birdbrain. Like, slow down maybe? Jeeze. Did you dye your hair? Wow, wish my mom let me do that when I was your age.”

 

            “Uncle Genji did it! I am so cool.”  Ganymede struck a pose, chest puffed out in pride.  It only makes his small feather-like cowlick stand out more prominently. 

 

            “Uh, yeah. So cool.”  Hana tries to contain her laughter as she tugs on it. “Did you get conscripted into playing intern too?”

 

            “Aahh...I have to do summer homework today, but later Bastion was gonna show me how to clean his guns. And then I am going to work in the greenhouse.  And then I am gonna help make dinner!”

 

            "I think Bastion might be up to playing your new video game if you finish your schoolwork early," Shu teases just as the large bodyguard comes out with her computer. A glare is shot in her direction as Gany shouts in delight. "I'll send a text if I'll be late. Have _fun_!"

 

             "Bye onee-chans!" The teen waves after the car until Bastion motions him back inside.

 

            "Cutie." Hana teases as she pulls into traffic. "You and big boss gonna keep him?"

 

            Shuichi purposely avoids looking at her.  But with how long they’ve known each other Hana knows she’s fidgeting.  "Ah... well. He's going to be with us at least until the danger is over."

 

            “He’s doin’ pretty good, considering what I heard happened to the rest of his _sentai_.”

 

            “Bastion has been treating him like a trainee, and I think being useful is making the situation feel a little more normal. Speaking of which, how are you and Mr. dos Santos settling in? Any fights with ‘the man’ yet?”

 

            “Ha! Like, not with fists. He and McCree look like strange cats whenever they’re in a room together. Rode his bike it today, so he’s gonna be there already. We’ve been going over interview notes. I spent some time last night cross referencing it with things from our side.”  Without looking she pulled the files up on her pink-cased phone, tilting it so her passenger can see.  “So whenever you want that let me know and I’ll get you the file and encryption code. Totally got ‘em on the run, what losers.”

 

            "Good. But don't let your guard down. I don't think Lena has her "Tracer" nickname for fun." Hana makes an almost insulted noise, then darts between lanes. Only years of specialized assassin and yakuza training keep Shuichi from clutching at the seat. It takes several long minutes for them to find a parking spot. "Have you two gone out to lunch yet?"

 

            "Even better! Gaming at his place tonight. He doesn’t play but he likes to watch" Hana raises her eyebrows and makes a face. “Well, anyway, here you go boss. Give me orders that get me around the building today. It’s like half the cops here are actually plants or something, like are any of them are actual cops.”

 

            “Jesse is.”  She says automaticly, unthinking.

 

            “Ooooo, Jesse!”

 

            “That is, Commander McCree.”

 

            “Whatever, too late now. What does Big Boss man think of Jesseee.”

 

            There isn't much Shuichi can do to rectify the slip. "He wants me to snap a picture of him today. He wants to see what he looks like." Shu remembers herself at that age when Hana giggles, and holds back a sigh.

 

            "You guys are fun. And have some on your interviews today!" Hana darts in to say hi to her new favorite co-worker while Shu makes a stop to get water for some more tea.

 

             The kettle is missing. Again. She'd keep it safe in Jesse's office if she didn't need an excuse to observe the bullpen in the mornings. It's been shoved up on the refrigerator and filled with salt when she pulls up a chair to get it down.   


            "Playing dress-up again, dickless?" The quick snipes are old even with the short time she's been infiltrating the police department. Cops too old or too entrenched in some supposedly threatened mindset. It's a pity, almost. There are good people here. She'll just have to find a way to pick off the dirty ones when the time comes.

 

            "I was thinking a flavored green today," Shu responds as she cleans out and fills the kettle. She doesn’t spare them a glance as she glides past to Jesse's office.

 

            Jesse’s hair is a mess from his hat and hands and the day hasn’t even started. His beard is trimmed and neat though, showing he had made an effort to be presentable. He even has a bandanna in the same red as her sundress.

 

            “Good morning, McCree-san.” She hangs up her wide brimmed hat next to his on the stand by his door. She has to fight the urge to take a picture of them hanging side by side.

 

            “’Mornin’. Gotta...this here.” He mutters distractedly. “Get it done before lunch. Another interview today after. Uh...” He looks up and runs a hand over his face, then into his hair, further rucking it up. “Morning.”

 

            A soft smile plays at her lips. It's hard sometimes to resist his charms, especially when he reminds her so much of Hanzo. Shuichi sets the kettle on the small hot plate in the space that's become her own. There still isn't much at the moment, just a small collection of loose leaf teas in decorated boxes and earthen ware mugs among the office paraphernalia. "Tea? I have this spiced caffeinated kind I picked up yesterday."

 

            “Nah. I need something with more kick. I didn’t get to sleep till late. Or early.” He puts both arms above his head and stretches with several audible pops, then goes back to work. He shifts through hand written notes, comparing them to the computer with his own observations, working through a spreadsheet he’s created.

 

            The smile grows wider and she uses the moment of distraction to admire the arch of the man's back. "I'll convince you one day. Although, I'm surprised they haven't given you a cot in here yet." She prepares cups for herself, Hana, and Lucio before moving over to look at the screen while the water heats. "Are we making any headway?"

 

            “Mmm...Yeah. See, we talked to Suzuki here who gave us a bit about when his brother worked. Let on that he, at least, was yakuza. And we got another person who said their ‘friend’ worked same hours, near the same place. So, I’m betting there is a unit of yakuza working out of this laundry mat slash payday loan store...Which, wow, not even subtle, is it? Fits our profile for places targeted so far, so gonna assign Torbjorn to watch it before we go out. See if we get lucky.”

 

            "Hiding in plain sight can be the best tactic. And the place we are interviewing today?"

 

            “Cousin of one of our vics. Hm...there is a nice taco place near there we could stop by for lunch. If you wanted. I uh, know you pack your lunch sometimes but we’ll be out. Not that I... Anyway. It’s a good place.” Jesse smiles up a bit lopsidedly, and scratches his beard.

 

            "Actually, if you are amiable to being slightly surprised, I was thinking of a place." Shu makes sure she is concentrated on her phone. Face open and innocent. "How good are you at potentially spending some time on your knees?"

 

            “...” Jesse makes a face. Draws in breath. Let’s it go without speaking. “Uh.” He stutters, clears his throat. “Good?”

 

            "Excellent!" A broad smile dawns on her face, a bright look in her eyes as she looks at McCree. "I found a place in Little Tokyo that serves traditional food, but it also has traditional floor seating as well."

 

            “…Did that on purpose.” He mutters, and leans over his work to hide his face. His neck is red.

 

~*~*~*~

 

            The idea that Shuichi had come up with was decent. Great, actually. At least that's what Jesse told himself and purposely didn't look at the cute lawyer standing next to him. It made a lot of sense. Suits and uniforms made even the best people clam up and assume the worst. But someone dressed as a civilian, and especially someone from home like Shuichi? Plus that sundress was damn cute. And the bared shoulders.

 

            A laugh drew Jesse's attention away from his wandering thoughts. Shu is looking around like a tourist with a hand on her hat to keep it from blowing away.

 

            "Oh! A mimosa tree!" Shu exclaims at a flowering tree near the restaurant. "How about a picture, Jesse?"

 

            Jesse obligingly steps into place next to her and sets a hand on her shoulder while she lines up, then snaps the picture with her phone. “The blossoms look beautiful, though it don’t hold a candle to you darlin’.” Are they on a date? This feels very dateish. He had asked her out in a way that was really playing it safe, but now he is paying for it by not being certain. On the other hand, she had made the comment about kneeling...

 

            A delicate thumb is posed above the screen of her phone. She looks up from where she had been saving the picture. Cheeks flush but she keeps his eyes on his face. "That is a high compliment... Perhaps we should bring a few blossoms with us." She tucks one behind her ear, and another in the band of his hat.

 

            They are seated on pillows at a low table. The young waitress says something quickly in Japanese that makes Shu flush again and protest, and the waitress giggles. They are left in peace to their menus for the moment. Shu's face is purposely in her phone as she sends a quick text. "McCree-san... Jesse... ah..." Shuichi begins, then stops, still looking at her phone. "May I... ask you something?"

 

            Jesse looks at the flip side of the menu in English with descriptions of the food next to the pictures. “Jesse is fine. What is it?” He glances up.

 

            "If you need any explanations or off menu items.... No..." She looks down. "That's not what I meant. Shouldn't be this hard to ask..." The waitress returns to take their drinks and Shuichi uses the time to compose herself. "How do you feel about.... inter-office romance?"

 

            "Well, there are rules about it." Ok, so this is definitely a date. Fuck, Jesse, you are so smooth. Yeah. “So long as the people involved aren't in each others chain of command, brass’ll let it be. Did you know my old boss and Jack used to date? Their breakup was kinda explosive, though. The whole HQ got dragged into it.”

 

            "They did?" She curls her hand against her cheek. Leans against it for a moment. "Still, I find myself very much wanting to go against logic. I've come to find you rather charming.... Disarming, rather. Of course, if this makes you uncomfortable or would make our work together while I am here more difficult..."

 

            “No! I mean yes! Wait. I...like yo-” There is a loud clatter as Shuichi’s phone buzzes with an incoming text. They both jump. Jesse laughs, and can feel his shoulders unclench. “Go ahead. Uh. Anyway. Yeah. I like you too. You’re cute. And fun. It might not last any longer than it takes this case to get solved, but why not, ya know?”

 

            "Snatch the opportunity before you before the slips away. Or something to that effect." She laughs. And suddenly he realizes Shuichi might have been fretting like he’d been. She silences the phone and tucks it away.  "So Jesse, tell me about yourself." She bites at a lower lip to keep from laughing, smiling freely.

 

            “Oh well. I’ll have you know, miss, I am in law enforcement. It’s a very time consuming job sometimes, but someone needs to do it to keep pretty things like you safe at night.” Jesse winks with a big grin. “So you know what’s on the menu here? Besides me’n you?”

 

            "Why, I think I could find something that you'll like."

 

            Jesse opens his mouth to respond, cause he has another gem about parking tickets and fine, when his phone begins playing the Ghost Busters theme song. “Ah, shit, that’s work. Hold on, babe. Hello?”

 

            “ _Jesse, this is Morrison. Get back to the station. Lena got finished going through the Song data. We busted the docks. Be here five minutes ago_.” The line went dead.

 

            “Well...huh.  Would you mind apologizing to the staff?  Looks like we gotta head back”  Damnit all, Morrison. 

 

~*~*~

 

            Jesse gets in to the station at with Shuichi on his heels by 2:30, a bag of fast food in hand. Officers from the bust are buzzing around excitedly. The entire haul is well on the way through processing.

 

            “McCree!” Jack barks. He looks like he'd been waiting for him. “You get appraised of the situation?”

 

            “Mmmm, not much really. No one’s answering their phones.” He can feel a headache building up from tension and lack of sleep. “Big arrest, smuggling, live gang members instead of dead ones?”

 

            “That's about it. I'd go interrogate them myself but Reinhardt is on my ass about ‘federally regulated amount of overtime hours allowed’.” He does finger quotes as he says it. “Talk to Lindholm.”

 

            “You aren't driving home like that, are you?” Jesse asks.

 

            “Na, he's not. I'm taking him home.” Reinhardt emerges from his office, handknit beanie already on his head. “Good to see you, Jesse.  Have a report ready when I get back tomorrow.”

 

            “Yessir.” He watches the two leave by the stairs, Jack tiredly but good naturedly bitching and Chief Wilhelm absorbing it like a wall while herding him along.

 

            No one else from his team is in sight, so he takes Jacks advice and finds Lindholm to get the details. He thinks about asking Jack to transfer him over, so they'll have a more reliable go between then constant email exchanges. It quickly becomes evident just why department has called in all the man power they can just from the number of people that were arrested. Jesse takes half a stack of print outs with names, mugshots, finger prints and rap-sheets and sets in to familiarize himself with their new guests.

 

            Hana and Lucio are taking a break at Lena’s desk when Jesse emerges. She is explaining how to enter information into the database while gesturing at her computer screens.  Shuichi is nowhere in sight, and Jesse can’t quite recall when he lost her. Damn. He also forgot to eat lunch.

 

            “You kids seen Shu?”

 

            “Ooo, Shu?”

 

            “Uh, Shuichi? Horada?”

           

            “Interesting.” Hana has a look in her eye Jesse doesn’t much care for. Looks like trouble. “Yeah, she’s in your office.

 

            He waves and starts in that direction, only for the object of his search to appear with two arms full of folders.

 

            “Ok, Oxton-san, I have F-K, and, ah, S-Z here?”

 

            “Thanks love! Just leave it anywhere ah...” She sweeps her arm at her desk, and Lucio has to dive to catch a tumbling tower of slipping papers. “Well. Somewhere.”

 

            “Man, it’s been a day! I’m beat and I still have homework.” Lucio rights the stack he rescued, maneuvering a stapler and picture frame as supports.

 

            “Then you should get going! You too, Hana.” Shuichi says. She tests Lucio’s paper structure by placing the files on top of it. They all hold their breath as they wait. It holds.

 

            "Sure you don't want us to stay?" Lucio asks again, the keys to his bike twirling around his finger.

 

             Shuichi nods. "You two have done enough for today. Go home, relax, rest up. That way some of us are ready to go for tomorrow."

 

            "Don't stay up too late, boss." Hana adds, then winks for good measure. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. And keys are on your desk."

 

            "You sure you won’t need your car?"

 

            "Yeah, I'll just hang out with Lucio until you call us back or he can drive me home. Ta!"

 

~*~*~

 

            The next morning, the precinct looked like the aftermath of a zombie invasion mixed with a frat party. Bleary eyed and moaning officers stumbled around each other. Papers that had escaped from their files fluttered in the air like confetti caught in the slight breeze of the air conditioning. Shuichi, dressed in a blue suit and red tie, filters in with the morning shift. Jack Morrison had apparently managed to slip his jailer and is directing the hand off of information and personnel.

 

            “Hey, Lawyer. Check in on McCree. Last I heard he was seeing if you could drown yourself in a standard issue coffee pot.  If he dies of a caffeine overdose and leaves me with the paperwork I swear--”

 

            "Of course, Morrison-san," Shuichi tried to reply only for the detective to run off when he couldn't catch someone's attention. Americans and their nicknames. But he also knew that they could overwork themselves as much as his own countrymen. He worried Jesse was going to work himself sick.

 

He found the man staring bleary eyed at his paperwork, shuffling the pages so quickly it was clear he wasn't absorbing any of the information. The whites of his eyes are catching red and scruff is already shadowing his cheeks under ruffled hair. Charming with a dash of obviously exhausted. "McCree-san. Surely you haven't been here all night?"

 

            “Hm?” McCree looks up with an audible crack of his neck. He grunts in pain, rolling his shoulders as if to throw his exhaustion off. “Is it...morning? Fuck. Uh, sorry. Yeah. Just gotta wait for Jack or Rein to get in. Don’t you fret none, it’s not my first all-nighter.”

 

            "But on top of working all day yesterday, and today's shift?" He quietly moved behind the slouching figure. Slim fingers dig into tense muscles. Glancing over his shoulder he takes in the scattered coffee mugs, take-out and the names of the arrestees up for interrogation. Junkrat? Roadhog? Odd, but distinctive. He makes a mental note to have Hana track them down if they were anyone of note.

 

            “You..uh..could just never stop. That’d be nice. Oh god.” Jesse moves under Shuichi’s fingers like a cat seeking attention, more pops sounding as tension bleeds away. His head falls on top of his folded arms on his desk. “Mmmm….Yeah.”

 

            The more noises that hum out of Jesse's throat, ones not typically shared so freely in an office, the higher Shuichi's dark eyebrows climb into his hairline. "Jesse-kun, I do believe I need to take you home."

 

            “What kind of girl do you think I am, Mr. Horada?” The man peaks over his shoulder with a wink. “You needa at least buy me dinner first.”

 

            "With as much caffeine and sleep deprivation as you have, I think such a thing would give you a heart attack." Shuichi gives the man's neck one last squeeze before patting his shoulder. "Up you go. If you promise to behave I'll make you breakfast."

 

            “Angel. Sweetpea. Darling sugar pie. I think there ain’t a thing I wouldn’t do for you right now.  Lemme just finish up a thing or two.” Papers are gathered into stacks and placed in manila folders, emails are sent, a few deliveries made.  Finally, a cardboard box is used to gather up all of the coffee mugs and other kitchen bound detritus on the way out.  The office was still chaotic, but at least it looked less like the aftermath of a horror film.

 

            Jesse moved to sit in Shuichi’s passenger seat without a fuss, hat tipped down to keep the sun out of his eyes.  “Sure you aint gonna be missed, darlin’?”

 

            "Well. I am attached to a certain police commander who seems to be taking leave at the moment. Not to mention both of my interns are also available to cover my absence." Shuichi quiets a moment as traffic picks up before a turn. His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "So I told Lena I was taking you home but figured I might as way play.... hooky I believe you call it? Although I suppose I could simply return home and call my colleagues in Japan for any new developments on their end. Apparently, there were suspicious warehouse fires in Osaka recently."

 

            “Way things are going, willing to bet it was owned by the Shimada as well.” Jesse shoots off a quick text to Lena to make sure someone looks into it, before letting the rhythm of the drive lull him again. A fancy GPS saved him from even needing to worry about giving directions, and soon they were pulling behind the restaurant that shared a parking lot with his apartment.  “Thanks a lot for the ride. Did you want to come up for a coffee and the grand tour?”

 

            "Only if I can make you breakfast. You can eat it now or after you get up. Then I'll tuck you in." A wink. A quick smile. A hand at Jesse's lower back as he helps him inside. It's so _easy,_ one part of him points out. The weight of his cell phone, of Hanzo's message, sits in his pocket. Of course, he wouldn't have agreed to it if he didn't have his own interest in the man.

 

            After unlocking the door, Jesse throws his keys down and hangs his hat. The early morning sun is still low enough to slant in through the east windows overlooking the other parking lot and the back of a strip mall. “So, uh, kitchen” he thumbs to the right “living room” he points forward “and bedroom is that way” he points to one of two doors visible from the entree way.  “I uh, have no idea...if I even have anything in the fridge right now.”

 

            "You'd be surprised what I can whip up with little to work with. Or perhaps a restaurant order while you shower." A thumb drags along the rough hairs along the man’s jaw. "If you think you could manage on your own."

 

            “Oh I don’t know.  Could slip and fall. I might need supervision.” Jesse takes Shuichi’s hand, eyes searching for permission, before bringing the knuckles to his mouth. “Maybe breakfast could wait.”

 

            His laugh is soft, breathless.  Smile dimpling in that way that's made Jesse ache since the first time he saw Shuichi in the bar. "Ordinarily I think that would call for several dinners and dates. But..." His hand moves against Jesse’s mouth, turning to drag his thumb over his bottom lip. "The length of our time together is unknown and may draw short... And it would be cause me great distress if you were to hurt yourself."

 

            His eyelids drop halfway, dark lashes curling above the blue of his eyes. The color might be noteworthy on anyone, but with him it was striking. Perhaps because it was unexpected. Or because it was such a contrast with Shuichi’s dark hair. Shuichi took one, two steps forward. On tiptoe to kiss him.

 

            Jesse makes a soft sound into the kiss somewhere between a sigh and a hum. He shifts his grip on Shu’s hand, holding it between them while pulling him closer, trapping their clasped hands between them. The first kiss ends, bleeds into the second, soft. A number of kisses later, Jesse pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against Shu’s. “Yeah.”

 

            He steps back, pulls Shu along to the other door in the apartment leading off the living room. The bathroom is barely big enough for the toilet and bath/shower combo, leaving little room between the two once the door clicks shut. Jesse starts on the buttons of his plaid shirt, slow enough that Shu could stop him or leave if he wanted.

 

            Shuichi watches with the same expression as before, like a cat with cream. The imagery is only solidified when his tongue darts out to taste the remnants of Jesse's kiss on his lower lip. Slim hands slowly, decisively, move as his eyes are on the American. He hooks a finger into a red tie and steadily pulls, unraveling, fluttering against Shuichi's throat. His skin bobbing as he swallows. The cufflinks at his wrists follow, the backers reattached as he arranges them on the sink. Cuffs loosened. The fabric of his tailored shirt slowly pulled from his pants. Then he is leaning back against the sink, eyes expectantly on Jesse. Hand brushing a moment against the pearly white of his buttons. "If you want..."

 

            “Baby, if I wasn’t about to fall over.” Jesse pulls Shu back into him by his hips into another kiss. “Let’s just get cleaned up and put me to bed. After...well.” He smiles, then lets the water heat up while he finishes getting undressed. His clothes get tossed near a basket in the closet, while Shu’s get much more considerate treatment being hung on a hanger on the back of the door. He steps into the shower first, hoping all of his neighbors are out for the day already.

 

            Shuichi takes a moment to braid up his hair, body hidden by the steam on the glass shower door. Then the door moves and the lithe form steps in with one fluid movement. He presses his chest against Jesse's as he finds room to stand. Twin flashes of cold presses to the skin between them, a sense of metal that quickly warms. Shuichi arches back into the shower for a moment, closing his eyes to enjoy it but peeking through his lashes to watch Jesse's face. While he is slim in a compact way, his body is also soft. Dark pink areolas encircle the lighter blush of large nipples that are pierced by metallic rings. The buds harden at the mere knowledge of someone looking at them, at him. Shuichi's voice is low in his throat as he explains. "I wanted to show you, earlier."

 

            “...Fuck me.” Jesse whispers, reverently. He doesn’t know where to start touching first. He slides his hands down his arms, up his hips, sides. His thumbs reach out to brush the edges of the piercings. He pulls, slowly, watching Shuichi’s face as he does.  Lips quivering and cheeks flushing with something beyond the heat of the water. “Yeah, baby, you keep lookin’ like that.” He does it again, and Shuichi makes the hottest noise Jesse has ever heard, so he has to keep on tugging and pulling and twisting.

 

            Even though he had presented them, displayed them, he hadn't expected Jesse to take to them so quickly. Nipple piercings could chase many people off. Hanzo hadn't been. How long has it been since fingers other than his own touched them? All semblance of self-control and fortitude crumble as the play at the rings continue. Mouth agape, whispering gasps and soft moans, hands bracing for purchase against whatever he can reach. A weakness to be sure but a pleasurable one. "Je-Jesse. I'll be the one unab-able to stand up--!"

 

            “Hmmm.” Jesse stops. “Guess I’ll just have to save it till we have a solid surface under us then, sugar.” He grins then turns his back. He continues his shower, getting washed up.  And if his back being turned hides how hard he is, that’s his own business.

 

            The washcloth is plucked from his hand after Jesse finishes his front. It moves over his back in languid circles followed by the small fingers that card through the hair on his back. Jesse would wonder why he focuses on Shuichi’s hands so much if he didn't already know he thrills at the contrast with his own larger, thicker ones. And his imagination of what those talented hands might be able to do. Shuichi's arms snake around his waist, hands interlacing against his stomach. His cheek nuzzles against his back, body relaxing as he lets out a contented sigh. Well, most of the lawyer is relaxed, sans what’s brushing against Jesse’s thigh.

 

            They finish the shower with soft touches and slow kisses that help Jesse unwind. The pain of tense back muscles melts under more attention from Shu’s hands, and his sleep deprivation headache dims in the heat and steam. Eventually, they step out and help each other dry off.

 

            “So pretty. How did I manage to get you here?” Jesse lassos Shu in with a towel, and peppers his face his more kisses.

 

            "I've been wondering," Shuichi answers and tries to return the kisses. The difference in their height means most are pressed into the bone of his jaw, to the soft flesh of his neck. "Rogueish charm, perhaps? You also invited me in the front door, if you meant literally. What if I were a vampire?" A nip against his collarbone, then a soothing kiss.

 

            “I am irresistible, anyone _would_ want a taste.” He walks Shu backwards into the bedroom, and onto the bed. The soft glow of sunlight under the balcony curtain puts the time at around high noon. Rather than pounce, he tucks them both under the covers and pulls Shu into the curve of his body, legs entangled. “Gonna keep you right here.”  


            "Of course. Until you realize I'm the one keeping you here to sleep." A hand curling up to lazily thread through the thick brown hair. "Good noon, Jesse-kun."

 

~*~*~

 

            Hanzo scrolls through his received messages as he steps off the plane.  A picture of his lovely blossom with striking contrasts of a red sundress and bare skin shoulders.  A hand keeping a wide-brim hat from being knocked off by leaning against the body of the much bigger man.  He snorts at the ridiculous bandana.  Reminiscent of a cowboy indeed, he thinks, reading the text beneath once more.

 

_Horada, Shuichi: "Out having fun in sunny LA :D #sunny #mimosa blossoms (Tuesday, 11:04am)_

_*****: The view is rather eye catching. Work has been no trouble? (11:10)_

_Horada, Shuichi: No trouble, at least not more than I can handle. It's very rewarding (11:12)_

_*****: Speaking of rewards. You fulfilled my request very promptly. Are you up for another challenge, pet? (11:14)_

_Horada, Shuichi: Another? Already? ;3 (11:15)_

_*****: Keep up the cheek, and see what you get instead. Try again.(11:20)_

_Horada, Shuichi: You're no fun. Hmm. Another picture of the sights? (11:28)_

_*****: I’m reconsidering. Do you want to be good for me? (11:33)_

_Horada, Shuichi: Of course, Ryu-sama (11:37)_

_*****: Good girl. Before the week is over, send me another picture. I want to see what your mouth looks like on his cock. You are not allowed to come until I give it to you when I arrive. (11:41)_

_Horada, Shuichi: So cruel, Ryu-sama! (11:44)_

_*****: Enjoy your day on the town. ;3 (11:46)_

 

            Two more pictures that were sent later. One of them both. Jesse's larger body dwarfing Shu's smaller one with an arm slung over his torso. Face nestled in the dark hair. (Wednesday, 2:09pm)

 

            One of Jesse, sleeping alone. (2:14)

 

_Horada, Shuichi: I think I skipped a step somewhere (2:15)_

 

            His fingers rub over the words on the screen with remembered anxiety.

 

_*****: What have you done?  (2:45)_

_Horada, Shuichi: He's been so overworked that he spent the night at the station. So I took him to his house and got him showered. Easier to get him to sleep curled up I guess (2:50)_

_Horada, Shuichi: Oh! (2:52)_

_Horada, Shuichi: I didn't mean skip my limitations (2: 52)_

_*****: You both look (3:14)_

_*****: Cute (3:19)_

_*****: I look forward to seeing you soon. I love you. (4:50)_

_Horada, Shuichi: Love you too. Can't wait to see you. Be safe  (4:51)_

 

            There is one last picture. Shuichi lit by red sunlight from the right. Disheveled dark hair held back by a hand from out of frame as they take a cock into their mouth, the latex already slick with saliva. Blue eyes looking directly at the camera.

 

            Hanzo flips closed his cheap burner phone as he walks out of the gate with his slim carry-on.  He looks around. Everyone else is hustling to or from their destinations and don’t notice him looking at homemade pornography courtesy of his spouse. He sees a man in a black suit standing at the curb with a waiting car. Bastion.

 

            His phone vibrates.

 

_Genji: They know you’re coming! Watch out!_

 

            A gunshot.


	5. Chapter 5

    Shuichi waits until there is a change in the man's breathing, Jesse slipping from a light doze into deeper sleep. His heavy arm drags over Jesse’s skin as he slips from the bed and back into the bathroom to retrieve his phone. No new messages have come in. Not that he was expecting any, but it is still a small relief to know nothing new has happened. He pauses at the side of the bed. He can move forward with his plan, now. Pressing the volume button until even the vibration of the phone is off he snaps a picture silently. Jesse's face is relaxed. With the tightness around his eyes gone, lifted off of him in the act of sleep, the change is almost startling.

 

    Tucking his body back into Jesse's embrace is easy. Limbs shifting with a sleepy grunt, murmuring into the dark hair as he nuzzles against it. For a moment, it makes Shuichi wonder if the man is used to having another sleep with him or if he just a natural cuddler, like him. While it requires an interesting angle to capture them both he snaps another picture of the two of them before sending both to Hanzo.

 

    Waiting for a reply leaves Shuichi to his thoughts, thumb tapping at the screen. He moves two pictures, one new and one old, into the same folder and then pulls them up side by side. Jesse sleeping. One of Hanzo on an afternoon Shuichi had wrestled him from his work and convinced him to sleep. 'I have a type.' Shuichi suddenly realizes as he looks at them. The next thought is the realization that he's tired as well. Physically, yes, but his body and soul rebel at the thought of a cold bed. No body next to him, weight on him. He puts his phone under his pillow, fighting his heavy eyelids as he burrows deeper against Jesse's arm.

 

    It's with an electric rush that Shuichi awakens sometime later. He had slept, actually fallen asleep. Worry pounds through his veins until he's checked his phone. Nothing has happened, save an excited picture with text from Ganymede in the greenhouse. Jesse's body remains tangled with his own. And it’s only when the cop shifts does Shuichi realize there's a meaty thigh between his legs. Though he aches in more ways than one to stay, he slips from the bed.

 

    Hanzo's voice whispers his command in his memory. Time to prepare. The condoms are found in a bedside drawer, alongside some things he'd suspect and a few things he wouldn't. Leaving only one package he takes the rest and hides them in another drawer in the living room. Not an unusual place for them to be for a bachelor but not the first place Jesse will think to look in the heat of the moment.

 

    Shuichi explores while the American sleeps. There is a small round cactus soaking in sunlight on the nightstand nearest the balcony next to a package of cigarettes and an ashtray. The clothes both in the closet and on the floor are of an unsurprising fashion, down to the checkered button-down shirt Shuichi pulls on and leaves undone. It’s comfortable, soft with a slight scent. The DVDs in Jesse's collection are unsurprising in the most part. Detective noir, action, westerns both old and new. A few documentaries and comedies. The guitar is unexpected, as Shuichi runs his fingers over the larger bass strings he wonders if Jesse would play if asked? The utter lack of groceries in the house causes Shuichi's mouth to pucker for a moment. Hanzo at least had known how to cook for himself. The pucker slowly turns to a smile as a new plan forms, even as his fingers slowly work on closing the buttons of the stolen shirt before he pads back into the bathroom for his pants and wallet.

 

_____-------_____

 

    Jesse wakes up to the smell of cooking meat. He stretches in bed, already plagued by half formed thoughts that there was something he should be working on but he just lets it roll through him. Feels the warm bed under him. Takes a deliberate sniff and parses out scents. Beef, onion, garlic, something sweet. Ginger? There is a low buzz of late day traffic coming in with a breeze off the balcony. He opens his eyes to an empty bed, but he has a suspicion where he’ll find his cute lawyer.

 

    He puts on a pair of drawstring pants from the floor by the wardrobe (that's the clean pile, dirty is near the closet. He has a system) and a yellow tank top. He finds Shuichi in his kitchen wearing an apron (where did he get that?) over one of his shirts. It reaches halfway to his knees, honest to God. Jesse smiles to himself and takes a selfish little moment to look. There is more than one pot and pan on the stove, and there is a rice cooker (where did he get that?!) counting down on the counter next to a pile of bowls.

 

    “Well how do you do, darlin’. What’s all this now?”

 

    "Should ask the same of you, sleepy," Shuichi teases as he turns, sucking at a finger as he tastes a sauce. His long hair is pulled back in a ponytail but a few wisps have escaped. "I knew you'd be hungry when you got up but there was nothing but cobwebs in the cupboard.   So I went out for a few things."

 

    “You didn’t need to go to all this trouble, sweetheart. I appreciate it though.” He comes to look over Shu’s shoulder, reaching into the pan to pluck out a slice of zucchini and earning a smacked hand for his trouble. “Aw, well. If I can’t have a taste of that.” He wraps both arms around Shu and kisses under his ear. A few more down his neck. He chuckles and doesn’t let go as his captive struggles to keep cooking.

 

    Shu’s neck is arched a little even he makes shooing motions "There's headache medication out if you need it and I just made a pot of tea. At least you already had ice in the freezer if you want to cool it down." The cheek under his lips curves and Jesse presses a chuckle into it when he recognizes yet another ploy to finally convince him to like hot tea.

 

    “Fine, fine, I’ll get out of your hair,” one last kiss “though I might pull on it later.”

 

Eventually, they both settle in at Jesse’s long table with dinner set out. There’s rice, meat, vegetables, tea enough for them and a half dozen others. Jesse wonders if he has mysteriously acquired new tupperware as well. He plays a risqué game of footsie under the table where he sees how far up his thigh Shu will let him go before stopping him. “This tea is alright. Tastes kinda like grass, but it’s spicy. Don’t think my coffee pot is gonna get retired anytime soon.”

 

    "I'll find a tea you like before I leave, you'll see. It's one of my missions." His foot is allowed to just the beginning of the bare thighs under his stolen shirt before they twitch, rubbing, then close around his foot. Laughing blue eyes are firmly on the food.

 

    Jesse smirks and wriggles his toes. He hopes it tickles. For now, he settles back with his own chopsticks, well versed in their use from many a takeout meal. “I think you already got something that’s to my tastes, darlin’.” He makes an exaggerated motion with his eyebrows and puts more pressure on with his foot.

 

Jesse can feel a shiver, watches him bit his lip. A shaky, soft gasp. Then another, softer. Blue eyes peek up through their lashes. "Tell me about your tastes, Jesse."

 

    “Now, I think you might be fishing for compliments sweetheart. You’re gonna need to try a little harder to manipulate lil ol’ me. I’m wily.” He grins, and takes his foot back. “Though I could get used to waking up to food this good. I don’t think I’ve eaten anything cooked in my kitchen in more than a month.”

 

    "For that, Jesse-kun, you'd have to return to Japan with me. And I'd have a very angry police department if I took you away."

 

    He mock-pouts, then turns his attention back to fishing the last bits of rice out of his bowl. “Mmmm...Now that hit the spot. You got anywhere to be? We could watch a movie, do whatever you want.”

 

    When he looks up, Shuichi is standing next to his chair. In the time it takes to look, he is settling sideways in his lap. His arm slowly wraps around his shoulder so his fingers can curl in his hair. "I see you have all the versions of the Magnificent Seven, even the Japanese original. Or you might show me a Western you enjoy…" Shu trailed off suggestively.  

 

    “You ever seen A Fist Full of Dollars? You might like it. This cowboy rolls into town, and he pretends to be on everyone’s side, and gets them all to fight each other while rescuing the pretty damsel and her kid.” Jesse eagerly stands up, Shu shuffled into a bridal carry and makes his way to the couch. “I won’t tell you any more cause that’d spoil it, but do you want to watch it in Spanish or English? You’ll need subtitles either way to understand it ‘cause it was done in old dub style.”

 

    Shuichi looks a bit flustered. Perhaps the carry had been too much. Then again, the excitement of sharing the movie had gotten to him. It’s his favorite. Laughter bubbles out of Shu as he slips off Jesse's lap. "Spanish. I don't get a lot of chances to hear it in Japan."

 

    Jesse puts the movie on and talks about the history of spaghetti westerns during the long mood shots without dialogue. He casually drapes an arm over Shu’s shoulder, cuddling right up on the couch. Man, he had forgotten how bad (awesome) this movie was.  He feels something under his fingertips, just the barest hint of metal and gets hit with a memory. Metal rings. Shu’s face as he pulled on them. He looks down. Shu is watching the movie with a cute little wrinkle between his eyebrows. Jesse goes back to watching to. But his hand moves. Just a little. Moving that little ring around.

 

    His little lawyer sucks in a breath, shivers. Jesse peeks over and sees that Shuichi is keeping his eyes forward but it's obvious he’s perked up and at attention. He even, nonchalantly, leans a little bit more into his hand.  

 

    “Mmmhmm.” Jesse purrs to himself with satisfaction. He smiles like the cat who ain’t got the canary yet, but could pounce at any moment. He teases more, just little light touches. Scrapes over the fabric with a nail. Keeps up the illusion that this is all just accidental even as the man as his side squirms and bites his lip. A shootout at a graveyard causes him to pause and pay attention, followed by a race back to the villa. He tunes out the villainous monologue and turns his attention back to his own cute little captive. Time to play a little bit harder. He leans down to get a kiss, unbuttoning the top of Shu’s shirt.

 

    "Jesse, the movie!" His tone couldn't be farther from matching his actions. Shuichi reaches, arches, into the kiss. Fingertips play at Jesse's wrists as buttons come undone. There isn't much to Shu’s clothing. Just the stolen shirt and a stark lack of anything else. Hands run over Jesse’s wiry chest hair, stopping to tweak his nipples in revenge. "Opps. Did I accidentally touch where I shouldn’t have?"

 

    “Afraid I ain’t as sensitive there, partner. Maybe you should keep looking around.” Jesse puts both on his hands on the back of the couch, all spread out in invitation.

 

    "I am probably sensitive enough for us both." Shu says with laughter in his voice. His hands drop lower. Over Jesse’s stomach and sides. His fingertips loop under the waistband of his pants. Trail the inside fabric. "What's this here? Another surprise?" Heated eyes raised in suggestion, seeking permission.

 

    “Going right for the prize, sweetheart? And here I thought you might want to get a little of your own back. Not that I’m complaining.” Jesse scoots his hips up long enough to pull his pants off, showing that he is also unburdened by neither underwear or shyness. His cock is just starting to fill out. “Do you want to move this to the bedroom?”

 

    "Perhaps I am too eager. The issue--” Shuichi crawls back up into his lap and grinds his hips down, arms around his neck, hands clutching into his hair as they kiss until they can't breathe.“--has been danced around long enough." The point is driven home even more as little sounds pour into their mouths chasing a sweep of tongue. When Shuichi finally draws back for air, it's only to nuzzle his face along his beard. "There would be more room... think you can carry me again?"

 

    “That get your motor going, honey?” Jesse grins and settles both hands under Shu’s ass to get a tight, firm grip, then stands in one motion. They leave the movie playing yet another shootout. Jesse does his best to make the carry look own effortless, but takes the shorter route through the bathroom to be on the safe side. He falls backwards into bed with Shu on top of him. He pulls his shirt off ‘em, and throws it into its own pile: Shu scented clothes.

 

"You already know two of my weaknesses but I shall soon know all of yours." A man could get used to a sight like this. Pretty man kneeling above him. Arms and legs braced around his body. Dark hair dancing like silk with every movement. The weight of Shuichi's body is easy to accept as he settles onto him to kiss anew. Softer. Slower. "Seem like the type to thrill at havin’ a lover like putty in your hands." More. Continuing up his jawline even as his fingers scratch his beard on the other side. Then a sharp nip. Soothed by a mouth settling over it to suck.

 

    “And what do you want? Want me to fill you up, sweet pea?” Jesse tilts his head back, inviting love bites and hickeys. “Want to get me with my ass in the air for ya, taking it from you? Could taste that pert cock of yours, make you writhe and moan for it nice’n’pretty.” He digs into Shu’s hips, pulling them down and he grinds up. “Tell me what gets you off, baby.”

 

    "Hungry for everything I see." Soft lips wrap around his neck and suck. Leaving a mark as requested. Then slim fingers wrap around his cock. "Want to finish what I started. Do you have... uh... um..." A sudden chuckle. Cheeks flushing darkly as he mimic rolling on a condom. "The translation escapes me.... rubber? But most are made of latex..."

 

    “Heh, yeah, hold on.” Jesse rolls Shu off him into the middle of the bed so he can rummage through his nightstand. He comes up with one condom easily enough. The rest must be buried under his toys. He considers letting Shu have a look through, see if anything appealed to him. Maybe the plug? Or one of the dildos. The cat ears with the cute collar, at least. Or soft leather cuffs. He shuts the drawer. Later.  He tosses the condom to Shu to see what he intends to do with it, and sets his bottle of lube upright by the lamp.

 

    "Thank you." There's a grateful air to the smile. He takes Jesse’s cock in hand again, curving it towards his belly in long strokes as he pets the underside with his thumb. A soft noise of want escapes Shuichi, swallowing back the saliva gathering in his mouth. He sits back on his heels to open the wrapper, light glinting off the rings at his nipples. Full and pert. Just like his cock, with little beads of precum as decoration. Jesse can’t help but take a moment to compare. Where Shu’s is longer, Jesse’s is thick and circumcised.

 

    "Ready, Jesse-kun?" Of course, he isn't. Not really. But Jesse nods, lays back against the pillows.  Shuichi starts sliding the condom on with his hands then proceeds to push it the rest of the way down with his mouth. Fuck. Damn. Shu doesn't quite make it the first time, bobbing his head as he nudges the rest of the material down with his fingers.

 

    Jesse takes to handfuls of the pillow under his head and forces himself to stay still. He draws a deep breath. Another. Let’s it out on an embarrassing little moan. “Oh, that is fucking nice sweetheart. It… uh, it’s been a while. I promise I oh, oh, that, fuck, gonna take good care of you, sweetheart, damn, gonna. Gonna get you nice and spread out on my fingers. Ugh! Yeah! Oh, make you cum, fill you up, get all that pretty hair spread out in my bed, darling, darling, that, there, fuck, yeah! Gonna sound so pretty for me, pull on those nipples like you like, oh!”

 

Jesse plants both feet on the bed, his will to not squirm or thrust while dying under the assault of Shu’s hot tight mouth. It’s been too long since he has had a lover. Had time for one. Prickles of pleasure are firing off his nerves like a livewire as he watches, feels, Shuichi move.  He rearrange himself for a moment, pushing up on their knees while their mouth sinks down.  The shirt rides down their back and-- fuck.  A hint, a glimpse.  Tattoo lines and color across the small of their back, pink petals of a lotus with a few smaller flowers, curving with their body before fingers against his balls have him arching.  

 

 

    It's hard. So hard. But the temptation grows with each declaration. Shuichi wants it. Wants it all. But can't have it.

 

    It takes very little thought on his part. It's obvious that Jesse has been denied this for some time. His tongue dances over his cock whether it is in or out of his mouth. Teasing around the crown. Pressing the latex material into the slit. Hands tracing. Cupping. Grabbing.

 

    “So damn pretty--!" Blue eyes dart up to look at Jesse through dark lashes. Catching him.  Something metallic tapping at the back of his hand jolts him out of it. Shuichi's cellphone. Thumb taping at the camera icon. He gets a smile and a hum around his cock.

 

    “Oh sweetheart, damn, you want to see how good you look right now?” Jesse settles another pillow behind him and brings up the phone. “Smile, now. Or don’t, you’re mouth seems a bit occupied. Mmmmm, yeah. You want another picture? Gonna keep going till you want me to stop.” He reaches down to brush Shu’s hair out of his face, decides to grab a handful instead. Snaps a shot. “Yeah, that’s good darlin, you keep that up I’m gonna come here in’a’nother minute. This good for you?”

 

    "Mmm _hmm._ " A tone of agreement vibrates from Shuichi's mouth, then a chuckle as Jesse's hips buck. Slender hands spread then hold down his thighs with surprising strength as his cheeks hollow. Pulling back, almost releasing him. Then down and swallowing as much as he can.  Shu whines softly when he reaches his limit.

 

    Jesse mindlessly keeps tapping on the button to take pictures even as his head tips back, his spine arches, heels rucking up the blankets on his bed. He gasps in a breath and holds it. Another. Once more, that he lets out on a groan. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh, oh, yes, darling. Mmm, yeah.” One last picture, catching Shu pulling off and milky white cum dribbling down under the condom, then the phone is tossed on the bed. “Oh, man, that was good. While you are down there baby, rub my foot. That one, there, fuck, crampcrampcramp fuck yeah thanks. Ow.”

 

    That sets Shuichi to laughing. A soft chuckle, then a full belly roar. He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth before working at his foot. "I'll take your foot cramping as a compliment, then?" Cheeks red from laughter and exertion. Eyes bright. And hair all tussled free from its ponytail. Enough to make everything all aflutter in a man.

 

    “It could happen to anyone. Come up here now, gonna hold you a bit while I catch my breath.” Jesse makes grabby motion hands until Shu allows himself to be pulled into the little spoon position. Jesse kisses the back of his neck. “Just a minute, and gonna make good on those promises. Tell me what you like, baby.”

 

    “I like being touched. Ah, some shibari. That is, rope and body art. I like listening to my lover being pleased. I like being taken deep and slow.” Shu says. His voice is just slightly rough from having had a cock down his throat moments ago.

 

    “Hmm, I could do that. Just a sec sweetheart.” Jesse rolls to the side and pulls his drawer open to root around. After moments of fruitless searching, he leans up to peer in as he moves this and that around, looking for another condom. “I… Uh. Hold on.” Slightly more perturbed and frantic searching follows. In his wallet? No, Zeigler had told him that would wear them out. Fuck. “Darling, I don’t suppose you got any condoms on you?”

 

    “I didn’t carry any for a business trip. Are you out?” Shu sits up on his elbow.

 

    “God, god dammit...Ok, we’re gonna have to get creative. What do you think about getting back in the shower? I could finish...”

 

    Shuichi is already shaking his head, “Come back over here. It’s ok for now. I would rather wait until we are properly prepared.” He mimics the grabby motions from before, taking the big spoon position. McCree can feel him against his back, still hard and wet at the tip but he knows a ‘no’ when he hears one. He settles down to snuggle with just a smidgen of guilt. He’ll go out to the corner store first chance he got.

 

    “So, darling. Wanna catch the rest of that movie?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from KRMalana: adding this on because the only reason I learned about it was from another fanfic (and not shoddy sex ed): a safe sex practice for blowjobs is to put a condom on first and then proceed with the blowjob *the more you know star*


	6. Chapter 6

That's it. It's official. The world hates me, hovers over my shoulder just to mess with my day. Things are going great:  all nice and cuddled up, Shuichi as the big spoon pressed against my back with his fingers slowly petting through my chest hair, butterfly kisses tickling my neck, then-- Ring!

“Shit! I gotta take that baby, hold up.” My phone is showing a missed call from Morrison by the time I fish it out of my pants up off the floor. It starts ringing again in my hand.

 

“McCree.”

 

“Station. Now. We have a situation developing. There was a shooting at LAX.”

 

“Well damn. They bringing guns into-”

 

“It’s shaping up as a hit on a passenger off JAL Flight 4543, one Shimada Hanzo.”

 

Then again, when the cock block turns out to be  _ the _ head of Shimada family, newly arrived in my city and attacked before he even left airport grounds? I might just be able to live with it.

 

~*~*~

 

It’s just past midnight when Shu and I pull back into the station parking lot. Both of us are wearing clothes from earlier today, another meal of fast food and caffeine in hand.

 

"He's in interrogation," Reinhardt nods towards the two-way mirror as I open the door to observation. Shuichi freezes at the window, shoulders suddenly tight, lips pressed together in the dim reflection on the glass.

Jack's hand comes down on his slim shoulder. "You recognise him?"  

 

The nod is quick, curt. "He's been around Hanamura. Yakuza bosses rarely hide their identities... But what is he doing here?"

 

“He said anything?” I ask. Tracer hands me his profile. It’s pretty detailed from her digging into the Shimadas.

 

“Hasn’t even asked for a lawyer, love. Said he’s just in town on business in his intake statement. Technically speaking, he hasn’t violated any laws and witnesses say he was the target of the shooting, not the instigator. We can  _ maybe _ hold him for twenty-four hours, but after that...” She shrugs.

 

“So, we have one of the major players in this boondoggle but nothing to lean on him with? What’s the gameplan, chief?”

“He is obviously here to deal with this situation. If it wouldn’t result in more bloodbath I would be tempted to let him.”  Jack’s shoulders are tight, as is usual with a case where they are sure of the answer but lack tangible proof.  “Jesse, this is your investigation. Be a sympathetic ear, tell him the police will help him in return for information. He’s got the half of the puzzle we’re missing. Find out what it is.”

 

“Roger that.”   
  


"Horada, you should stay here with us. Even if he requires a translator, we would have to call for one unassociated with the case." Jack says.

 

"Of course, although I can translate for you here if he says anything."

 

I take a step to the side, getting my head together as I go over the profile from Lena. Shimada, Hanzo. Age 38. Graduated from Tokyo University in Business, one brother listed as ‘missing, presumed dead’. That was recent, could be relevant. Shooter appears to have been part a team, using assault rifles, ammo currently in the lab for ID’ing the gun. Shooters fled once victim left the scene using a rental car that had been idling nearby. Owners contacted. 

 

Ok. 

 

You know what time it is.

 

The interrogation room door squeaks as I open it then clicks, twice, as the lock engages. The two-way mirror is on the left, a camera with a little red light in the right corner. My earpieces buzzes with tinny standby. Shimada looks up, eyes sharp and assessing.

 

Then, he smiles.

 

“Officer.”

 

“Mr. Shimada.” I take a seat. The folder goes to the side. “Looks like your business trips gotten off to a rocky start. Can I offer you a coffee?”

 

"No, thank you. I would like to be able to rest when I head to my lodgings." He talks with more than a faint accent. He's been seen by EMTs but refused further medical treatment. Nothing serious, according to the notes, but there are scrapes and bruises starting to form on one side of his face. Look nastier than they are. "Officer...?"

 

“McCree. I have some questions that I’m hoping are going to lead to finding who tried to kill you today. How about you tell me exactly what business it is you have in the states, and with who, Mr. Shimada.” No need to point out that his ‘lodgings’ are going to be whatever hole I can stick him in long enough to find some charges that will stick. Thank fuck he hasn’t lawyered up.

 

"I have business in the area of Little Tokyo. An import goods store. Hanamura has many fine things to offer to those who are interested."  Shimada leans back in his chair, dark eyes on me, stare intense enough to feel tactile. "As to who I was meeting with, I had come to meet with some of the local business owners to gauge their interest."

 

“Seems a bit of an odd time to be expanding, Mr. Shimada, into an area where so many of your businesses are turning up bodies. How about you tell me about that. And tell me the names of the people you were planning to meet with.” I lean forward, palm on the table. It puts me about a heads height above him, a bit intimidating but nothing overtly threatening.

 

He only leans forward, easily placing his weight on his forearms, face tilted to meet my gaze. "One might have to ask why the violence is present in the first place. Is there enough money in the local community to support its residents?  Do the people feel safe to go about their daily lives, or does something need to be done? And if their adoptive country is not capable of rendering aid, why not their motherland?" The failure to give me the names does not go unnoticed.

 

“Well, if the homelands looking to be helpful, maybe you could start by being a little more upfront. Doesn’t seem like our problems have a local source. I’d hate to hear later you’d been holding out on me, Mr. Shimada. Obstruction of justice sounds like a hell of a charge to wiggle out of in a country where you haven't got friends in high places.”

 

"The tone of your questions, Officer McCree... might lead someone to believe I'm the suspect in my own shooting."

 

“Well now, I wouldn’t say that’s what I suspect you of. I got a few other ideas, but putting them out on the table is a complication I don’t think either of us is lookin’ for. But if I don’t get some other road to go down...” I let Shimada stew on the implications while I light a cig. Regulations can kiss my ass, it’s so far after hours it’s nearly come ‘round again.

 

Shimada finally sits back in his chair, eyes watching the smoke curl upwards, lips curling as well into a knowing little smile. "... then you'll start hounding at whatever you think is worthwhile."

 

Lena’s voice pings my ear, “ _ He’s a wily one. Nothing he’s saying could carry a case in court for all he’s practically admitted he knows what’s going on. _ ”

 

Shuichi’s voice is quieter, further from the mic. He may not know that I can hear. “ _ Oyabun such as Shimada are trained from birth to assume their role. He wants us to pick up something though, or he would have refused questioning or gotten a lawyer. It’s risky though, so why…? _ ”

 

"Your city..." The attention is drawn back to the room as Shimada suddenly speaks, "has seen a rather sudden uptake of violence. It saddens me greatly, especially when it is members of such a tight knit community. But I am sure the great members of the Los Angeles Police Department are doing something about it... aren't they?"

 

“Sure are.” I take another, deeper drag to give my temper time to settle. “See, it turns out that a lot of that violence is directed at you and yours. Safe to say we both know that. It’s getting to be curious why you aren’t directing our attention to the source of that problem. Makes me think it might be internal. What happened to your brother, Mr. Shimada?”

 

Ah. There it is; signs Gabe taught me to look for. The slightest twitch of an eyelid. The tightening of arm muscles under his suit. "I do not see what bearing that question has on present matters."

 

“Getting a tad put out by your inability to answer simple questions, Shimada.”   
  


"Perhaps that's related to your inability to ask for what you really want." And just like that he's back to the impassive facade. "So, we can either keep dancing. Or actually get something done."

 

“Fine.” Both palms come down on the table with a bang. “Who are you and why are you fucks shooting up my city?”

 

"Hanzo Shimada, of the Shimada-gumi. And we are not the ones shooting up your city." The dark eyes are suddenly sharp. Like a predator awakened. "Someone is using your city as a hunting ground for my family."

I lean back, fishing out my carton of cigarettes. I wave it in offering and surprisingly enough Shimada takes one. Good behavior needs to be reinforced and all. “Go on.”

 

"Most will understand the concept of family. You help each other, rely on each other, protect each other. You seem familiar with the concept." Hanzo takes a drag and finally leans back a little in his chair. "Ordinarily my business would hardly be any of yours.. Did you ever really hear about us before now?"

 

“Ya you were real cozy neighbors, dealing drugs nice and quiet like. Someone muscling in on your turf?”

 

"You see, not much happens here. A place for family to retire somewhere quiet. Rest for a while. Perhaps at least a place to cool down. Bother no one and you won't be bothered." The bright embers are the end of the cigarette holds his attention for a moment. "Then someone began targeting my family. Here. Back home. An attempt to keep my attention elsewhere."

 

“Those were a lot of words, Shimada, funny how they didn’t say very much. How about names, organizations, paper trails, things I can use. Who is ‘someone’?” My ear buzzes with some low chatter. Shu and Lena talking over something. They’ll let me know if it’s important.

 

Hanzo laughs, a deep, rich sound bubbling up from his chest. "Sorry, old habits. Now, the reason I came here was to see for myself if evidence supported or refuted my suspicions before making a move. The Yamaguchi-gumi. They're here as well. I had thought we had an understanding relationship, but perhaps they wish to change that. If your fine organization can prove it so or otherwise, I'll let you handle it. I think we'd both like to see these senseless killings stop."

 

“Well aren't we suddenly a bastion of cheer and togetherness. How about I go get someone to help you put together a statement to sign. Just so we can be clear who said what if any of this turns out to be you blowing smoke up my ass.” I stand, bones popping, and start getting things together.

 

The statement seems to amuse the man across from me. He lets out a slow breath, the smoke curling upwards like a dragon. "Would it be possible to ask for your card, Officer McCree? In case the need arises to contact you again."

I give him a look. He returns it for several moments, still looking smug and unphased, before I reach into my front pocket and pull out my wallet. I wonder if he’ll do that cute thing Shu did when I gave them my card. “Anything else, your highness?”

 

"A phone to call a rental." Hanzo takes his time looking over the card, deliberate in both taking in the information and controlling his surroundings. Eventually, he pulls out a slim lacquered case from a breast pocket, shiny black decorated with gold and blue dragons. He swiftly exchanges my card with one of his own and holds it out. That smile curls the corners of his mouth. The edge of a tattoo peaks from the cuff of his shirt.

 

“Yeah, for your own safety and all, you’re gonna be spending the night with us Mr. Shimada. Our finest holding cell will be made ready for you with all the amenities a visiting crime boss could want. Maybe imagine spending a lot more time there while you think over any information you’re going to give us.” The card goes in my breast pocket with a little glance. Thick paper, embossed ink. Money and class. My cross cultural studies are paying off in that I can subtly snub a crime boss. I knock on the door and the officer on the other side lets me out.

 

~*~*~

Even Shuichi had to admit that being forced to remain in HQ, surrounded by police, was the safest place for Hanzo for the time being. Usually protective custody meant a safe house, or at least a police escort and guard rather than a cell, but it seemed he had no intention of allowing any of it. Round after round of arguments came and went as the LAPD  tried to get anything that would stick. 

 

Hanzo had taken it in stride of course.  A knowing little smirk pulling the corners of his mouth every time someone peeked in the window of the door.  

 

The fact that he couldn’t even allow himself to look at Hanzo, lest he give everything away, bothered Shuichi as much as the fact his husband had been in danger. 

 

The attack had been brazen.  Broad daylight, crowded with witnesses, using  guns.  The LAPD is methodologically searching using the usual channels, but it will take time.  Especially when Lena came back with the news that the security cameras that covered the attack location were blacked out.  Jesse had tried to use the fact the attackers remained at large to keep Hanzo at the station, or at least accept police protection, for 24 hours.  The oyabun politely declined.  When nothing remained to keep him there, Hanzo Shimada simply called a driver and left.

 

Shuichi knew that Bastion would be the driver, keeping Hanzo in sight until he was certain the danger had passed.  The fact was a comfort, but he had his role to fulfill as well. Stay here.  Play at the international lawyer until there was a natural point for him to leave.  Ears open.  Feed information.  

 

Little mantras he repeated to himself to focus as his fingernails dug into his palm every time his heart ached.

 

     “ So we’re going to let him walk out, just like that?”  Torbjorn finally voices what they’ve all been thinking.  “He’s the best lead we got!  You know he’s doing it.”

     “We know he’s connected. Ain’t the same as being responsible. Barely.” Jesse is chewing on a pen after Morrison had taken his pack of cigarettes away.

 

     “He’s not under arrest,”  Agent Fareeha points out.  “We don’t have probable cause or even reasonable suspicion, given he appears to be the victim of the attack and not the perpetrator.  Even the most favorable judge would throw it out.”

     “ Can you Feds hold him on anything?  Help us get surveillance on him?”

 

Fareeha’s lips tighten, then relax with a sigh.  “I can try.  But you know it will take time.”

     "I think that's all for the day. We'll be in contact if anything changes." Captain Morrison finally announces. He and Tracer are sipping on an American brand of coffee she had brought in. It has done little to raise spirits.

 

     "We'll think of something in the morning. Hopefully...." Jesse flings the chewed up pen at a trashcan across the room. "Need a ride home, Shu?" 

 

The lawyer shook his head. "I'm fine." A little smile plays at his lips at the memory of  the mischief that had played out that morning. His fingers slip into his pocket to retrieve his cellphone. "I think with rest, a way forward will come to us."

 

     "Ok." Jesse makes a doomed effort at flattening his hair before hiding the mess under his hat. "So...call me sometime?"

 

Another quicker smile, and a nod-"Yes, if you wish"- eyes on the phone in his hand.

 

     " I uh. Right. Ok. Later then?”

 

     “Of course.”

 

Shuichi’s car arrives and he leaves without looking back to see how the American’s eyes follow him, teeth digging into his lip to keep back unasked questions.

 

The house Hanzo had arranged for himself is a two story mcmansion in a neighbourhood filled with the same, nestled between a lake to the south and foothills to the north. There are lines of carefully controlled tension in Bastion’s stiff grip on the wheel and in the straight backed posture of his shoulders; neither communicate on the drive. Neither would relax until they saw that Hanzo was safe. The car pulled into a attached four car garage. Bastion waited until the rumble of the descending garage door hid them from sight before unlocking the doors. That was as long as Shuichi was willing to wait. Briefcase, purse, anything that would slow him down was abandoned on the way out of the car and up into the house. A kitchen, then a living room passed by unnoticed. The sounds of voices carried from a bedroom up on the second floor.

The door made a satisfying bang against the wall as Shuichi threw it open, making his opening salvo. Hanzo ended his call then pocketed his phone.

     “Shuichi.”

 

     “What were you thinking!?”  He remains in the doorway, arms firmly crossed, mouth drawn into a tight line as he looks over Hanzo freely. He’s in the same suit, scuffed in places and rumpled in others with everything that had happened.  Although the police had allowed Hanzo to wash up there are still a few smears of blood in the lines of his face.  Clinging to locks of hair.  The sight of it makes the anger coil even tighter in his chest.  Hanzo hasn’t taken care of himself; he’s gotten right to business.  Again.  

     “I am your oyabun. Do not take that tone-”

     “And you are  _ my _ husband!! And I will speak to you however I please when you are a reckless fool!”

     “Everything went according to plan. The danger was minimised as much as possible. Bastion was on hand. Will you calm down and listen?” Hanzo raises both hands, palms out and calming. It lets Shuichi see the bloody scrapes that must have come from a fall onto concrete or asphalt. “We needed a way to lure out those in the area that have been compromised. Different false times of arrival were given to each of them, so that if any attack were to be made against me, they show their hand. My true itinerary was kept secret to only one person. He will soon learn that his actions have revealed him, so we must move to corner him quickly."

“

     You aren’t going anywhere.”

 

The yakuza’s mouth opens again to protest, but Shuichi only thrusts a finger at the bed, eyes steeled against any argument.  “Sit.”

 

Hanzo sinks to the bed immediately, eyes on his spouse as Shuichi approaches with a first aid kit.  “Hands.”  He offers them at the command,  the large fingers cradled by far more delicate ones as the edges of his wounds are gently prodded.  Little bits of  grit are carefully picked out with tweezers. Antiseptic gel softly rubbed in. Once he is satisfied the hands move to manipulate Hanzo’s face.  

 

Hanzo waits for his blossom to scritch through his beard, surprised when the soft touches don't come, then miffed at his own surprise. Of course, Shuichi would never simply say he was cross, but speak just as plainly without words. Brows furrow over blue eyes and Hanzo’s head sinks against the hand cradling it.  Shuichi has found the stitches closing a small wound from where his head struck the ground.  Hanzo opens his mouth to make an excuse, apologize, growl.  Closes it.  

 

     “Idiot.”  He is carefully pulled against Shuichi’s chest, one arm cradling his head while the other presses over his shoulders.  “What if they had been able to surprise you?  What if Bastion wasn’t there in time?”

 

There is no answer Hanzo could provide that would ease Shuichi’s hurt and worry.  Not now. Powerful arms close gently around a slim waist.  His clothing smells different, but his skin beneath it is the same; a faint floral sakura blossom perfume.  The same silky hair, braided down his back.  Even the solid metal piercings beneath his shirt that stings against Hanzo’s skull as he pulls him closer.

     “When you made your case to come to America, all but alone, you said ‘ _ I will not stay hidden and safe while others die. Not while there is something I  can do.’ _ ” They both fall silent for a moment. “Grant that I might feel at least as much responsibility to my clan as you do.” It is said sarcastically, a final allowance to temper before it dies out.

 

Time passes quietly as both men hold each other. Hanzo’s phone rings, is ignored until Yoshi picks up on the secondary line downstairs. 

 

    “Alright, up. Let’s get you washed, and prepare for a new day.” Shuichi pulls gently until Hanzo finds his feet. The first door he tries leads to the master bedroom walk-in closet. The second opens to the master bath. Clothes fall where they will as they strip with gentle stroking fingers and soft touches exchanged. The bath is only filled halfway to keep bandages and stitches dry, with Shuichi doing the heavy lifting of getting them both clean. 

 

Hanzo closes his eyes to relish in the touches taking the time to work the matted blood out of his hair, slow and careful.  The pad of his thumb rubbing over the scrapes to his face. Then, finally, burying in his beard.  And he knows his blossom well enough to know that tomorrow morning will bring a request to give it a trim whether he needs it or not. 

 

     “Do you want another bath for soaking?” Shuichi asks, after running out of ways to fuss over his husband. For now. 

 

     “No, I’m tired. We should go to sleep.” Hanzo doesn’t move, yet, from where he has his head resting on Shuichi’s shoulder. He presses a kiss to some area of wet, warm skin. There is a sigh above him, and the kiss is returned over slightly numb stitching.  Over the scapes. Over the knuckles of his bandaged hands.  

 

     “I think we would awaken rather wrinkly,”  Shuichi teases, but fails to leave the tub as well.  The kisses return, as does a hand that cradles his head.  “However, it means more time to keep you to myself.”  

 

Eventually, the water cools and the drain is pulled. Towels are found. Hanzo sends a text to Yoshi to have him handle things until morning, barring emergencies. Bastion pokes his head in to deliver an overnight bag for Shuichi, nods, then closes the door. That means security has been handled. Despite the delivery Shuichi is already dressed for bed in one of Hanzo’s long silk sleeping pants. That leaves him with just a pair of shorts, but they will do.

 

Other last minute tasks are done in quiet companionship before the lights are flicked off and they slide under the covers. They immediately find each other in the middle, hands gliding over skin and mouths meeting. It’s easier, more honest, to express what they had not with words now with actions in the dark. I missed you. I’m glad you are here. Mine. Moonlight slants into the room through the blinds as they fall asleep between one kiss and the next.

~*~*~

 

Soft, indistinct sunlight has replaced moonlight when Hanzo awakens. A headache is the first thing to greet him, concentrated behind his eyes.  Then aches in his neck, over his injuries. His arm is dead at his side, nerves cut off by being used as a dragon printed pillow. He carefully replaces his limb with a small throw pillow that Shuichi curls against.  His phone tells him it is 4:56 am, and that he has three text messages.

 

He responds to them while waiting for feeling to return to his arm. A birdcall that he is unfamiliar with twitters outside in the otherwise quiet morning. Bastion responds a few moments later, taking over from Yoshi who hasn’t slept since coming to the states. A door closes carelessly down the hall, footsteps on the stairs, but whatever activity starts up downstairs is too far away to hear. A few more back and forth texts and some emails and his phone falls silent so Hanzo puts it aside to concentrate on a more important matter.

 

Shuichi is still asleep. The unfamiliar covers have been kicked to the end of the bed.  He doesn’t wake after one kiss, or two, or when Hanzo gently turns him onto his back and takes away his little pillow. Smiling, Hanzo keeps on brushing soft kisses onto his husband. Down his neck. Over nipples kept perky by cute little ring piercings. Even as he starts to make soft little sounds, he stays asleep and pliant.

 

He loves these times when he can tease his blossom, take what he wants from him without the resistance that teasing or shyness might bring. It’s harder, when Shuichi is awake, to coax and prod and overwhelm him into a submissive ball of need.  Always worth it but now, he can take his time. Enjoy and listen to such honest sounds coming out of his throat as he rolls the nipples gently between his fingers. 

 

His shorts go but he knows Shuichi would wake up if he were to try and take off  t he borrowed sleeping pants.  So they are pulled down just enough for Hanzo to play.  To allow the head and shaft to curved up towards his belly yet held down by the band. Hanzo settles his weight between his legs.  Kissing, lapping at the flushing head even as his fingertips slip into the rings and tug for the first of many times.  Sleeping breaths hitch in their rhythm, fluttering as he pulls again.  They are Shuichi’s greatest weakness and only he truly understand how their manipulation can bring the quick witted lawyer to his knees.  

 

He can feel the muscles of the soft thighs twitching around him.  A calculated harsh pull, held for a few moments, results in toes digging against his bare legs.  He only releases his grip when Shuichi writhes and seems close to waking, arching back on his shoulders to push his chest into the playful hands.  Hanzo relents for a moment.  Cups the soft flesh, just enough to fill his hands, pert nipples between his knuckles.  He kneads slowly. Playfully manipulating the flesh in whatever direction he pleases, keeping the ringed nubs rolling between his knuckles.

 

Shuichi won’t last much longer.  Not with the way the nipples are swelling, blossoming, flushing red at the unrelenting attention.  His fingers slip to work at the thickening flesh again.  Pressing against the metal that runs through them ,  massaging the areolas until the skin crinkles and pulls tight er .  His blossom is truly writhing now.  Blooming in an exquisite display just for him.  The soft mouth is parted now in sharp breaths and shaking moans. Eyes flutter open, blink, but do not see.  The brain trying to switch from whatever pleasure it had dreamed and the waking rush of sensations bombarding it. 

 

     “...Hnn!”   Hanzo knows when Shuichi begins to awaken when the legs tighten against his body and his hips rock upwards in a desperate search for friction.  He allows his weight to sink down and hold the smaller body in place, his slick cock between his own thick pecs.  “Han…!”  Shuichi pleads, close to a sob.  

 

The only reply is a pleased growl that vibrates deep in his chest.  He can feel the way the muscles in Shuichi’s lower abdomen start to flutter.  So close now.  He plucks at the swollen nipples, pulls them up to their limit of both flesh and pleasure to pain, then releasing.  They spring back, erect with a brief tremble of the softer flesh underneath.  Hanzo repeats the motions relentlessly, pluck and release, until Shuichi wails.  And feels the cock trapped between his pecs twitching, ropes of spend spilling out over them both.

 

Hanzo waits as his blossom trembles.  Riding that warm, shadowy bliss that follows in the aftermath of pleasure.   He spreads his fingers over his little breasts, massaging with gentle kneads to soothe the abused flesh.   Once his lover’s breaths have returned to an even rhythm he asks, “Did I give you permission to come?”

 

Shuichi gives soft laugh, looking down his body to meet Hanzo’s gaze in the low light.  “You only said to wait until you gave it to me, anata.  I followed your instructions to the letter.”

 

     “Mm.  You did.”  Hanzo’s hands finally drop to Shuichi’s sides, thumbs tracing lazy circles as they travel downwards.  Fingertips slip under the band of the borrowed pants and try to work the fabric off his hips, pressing kisses into his soft stomach despite the mess.  The movement causes Shuichi’s softening cock to slide between his pecs, wet and warm, and the breath to choke in his throat.  He wonders briefly, with how wound up his blossom is, if he could make him come again sliding his cock between his pecs.  

 

Another time or position, perhaps.  Shuichi’s fingers tangle in his hair and pulling for a kiss, and he cannot deny him.  His blossom whimpers into the kiss as their bodies meld.  The press of his pecs against the swollen nipples.  The weight of his heavy cock sliding over his messy stomach.  It should not be possible to ache as much for a person as much as he does for Shuichi.  Ache so much more now that they are together, touching, than when they were apart.  So when the arms wrap over his neck, press as far as they can reach down his shoulders, he dips his head and suckles a plump nipple into his mouth.

 

Shuichi shudders, whispers pressed into the dark hair that he cradles closer.  Arching his chest into an eager mouth.  Hanzo’s hand searches over the bedsheets towards the bedside table for the lube he knows he unpacked and left there the night before.  He knows he can make Shuichi come again just from suckling and fingers preparing him, knows that when he sheathes inside his body he can work those receding waves of pleasure back to a crest.  His blossom seems to agree, curling his legs along Hanzo’s side and teasing his back with his heels.  Spreading and presenting for easier access, pelvis rocking up into his own.  

 

So it is a surprise when Shuichi throws his weight, uses the momentum and shock to throw Hanzo to his side and roll him onto his back.  His legs are braced on either side of him, hands pushing against his chest until Shuichi is kneeling upright.  The wet nipple ring shines for a moment in the weak light, his mouth for a moment watering for it.  But he swallows and looks upwards until he catches Shuichi’s gaze, waiting for an explanation.  “Your hands, Hanzo.  The bandages.”

 

     “I can remove them,” Hanzo points out, even as he moves to pick the gauze away.

 

Shuichi catches them before he can get very far.  Cradles them even as he shakes his head.  Hanzo unconsciously bucks his hips when the end of his lover’s braid teases over his cock, eyes narrowing as a soft laugh escapes his tormentor.  He seeks his revenge when Shuichi loosens his grasp and rolls the still plump nipples under his palms.  For the first time his mind registers the bandages over his hands as the rough fabric resists a little at the rings and flesh.  Shuichi hunches a little, brows furrowing and lips clamping down on a hiss of breath.  Too much.  He pulls his fingers back to lightly tug the rings in apology.  

 

     “Hanzo…”  The name is spoken softly, but the tone is reproachful.  He believes he might win for a moment, as the slimmer hands settle over his own but make no move to stop him.  He tugs and releases the rings again, smirking at the shaking hitch that enters his blossom’s breath.  The arch of his spine as he leans into the touches.  But he is tricked, betrayed, as Shuichi carefully yet firmly pushes the bandaged hands down his chest and presses them into his soft thighs.  “You must allow your hands time to recover.”

 

Hanzo can only bare his teeth, “I am not so invalid that I cannot take care of you.”

 

    “I know,” the blue eyes soften, “but perhaps I might be allowed a chance to take care of you?”

 

The retort is ready on his tongue, until Shuichi shifts his hips and rubs against the length of his cock.  The plump curves on either side and the crevice between that guarded his entrance.  The caress repeats itself as his spouse lays forward to sprawl over his chest.  Lips hovering over his ear; “I have missed you.”

 

He swallows thickly before he can speak.  “Let me prepare you…?”  He does not beg.  But cannot quite demand.  Perhaps he should have, especially when he feels Shuichi shakes his head against his.  As he denies him once again.  

 

Save for one concession.  Shuichi guides his hands over his hips and back to rest against the his ass.  Pressing lightly on Hanzo’s hands until the man sinks his fingertips into the flesh.  “Hold me open~?”  

     “Blossom…”  Hanzo moans, at the denial and the idea.  But he settles them into a more comfortable position, where he can easily keep his grip while the strain will not be too great for either of them.  He knows it might have been easier for Shuichi to reach while braced on his knees or curled up on his back.  But he stays spread along his chest, nestling into the firm flesh as he finds the lube and slicks his fingers without seeing.   The slickened digits fumble against the hands parting his flesh, against the cock curving behind him.  On purpose, he realizes, feeling the smile pressed into his chest.  

 

He knows when Shuichi has worked the first finger inside himself when his lover gasps.  Presses his body into the hands that spread him open.  He waits as Shuichi gets used to one finger.  Then sneaking his bare fingertips to feel the puffing rim when a second is worked inside.  By three his blossom is rocking his hips back into his own fingers, rutting against his stomach.   

 

Hanzo relaxes back into his pillow, eyes open greedily on the show he is being offered. Careless or deliberate motions tease him, feather light touches that build his desire up higher and hotter. He wants to squeeze the ripe flesh of Shuichi's hips, grind him down where he wants him, but the ache in his hands is already starting to throb from his earlier activities. "You know what you are doing to me, you fox. Don't think I'll forget it."

     "I don't want you to," Shuichi replies, panting a little as he finally pushes back up to his knees. He makes a little show of pouring lube in his palm and leaving it there to warm. The hips are still rocking in tiny movements, driving the cock between his cheeks to press against the entrance that greedily wants something to fill it again. Shuichi has to arch and twist to reach behind him to rub the lube over his cock, eyes bright with the knowledge the position puts him on full display. "O-once I'm seated, rest your hands on my legs."

Hanzo does as he's told, little electric thrills tingling along his nerves as he lets go. Lets Shuichi sink down onto him.  Lets him control the pace, the motion, hot and tight and slow and sweet. All he has to do is relax, mouth mindlessly shaping sounds of pleasure and half formed praise and pleas.

 

Smaller hands rest on his own, warm companions as they slide back and forth as Shuichi moves. Their gazes stay upon each other, only broken in the need to blink or fluttering as pleasure weakens them. He can feel the end of the braid brushing, tickling, between his thighs. A soft contrast to the warmth that surrounds him. 

 

Shuichi shifts when his legs start to tremble. Hands sliding forward to brace against his husband's belly. It frames his little breasts lovingly, the rings barely moving with his gentle rocking. He tucks his head against his shoulder as he sinks back down with a little more force, eyes peeking almost shyly through his messy bangs.  “Did you miss me?”

 

The subtle change of tone has Hanzo swallowing heavily.  “Yes,” he breathes quickly, then repeats the answer more firmly, “ _ yes _ .”  

 

     “Mmm.”  The look in his eyes has shifted now.  Playful.  Calculating.  “Hands up, by the pillow.”  

 

He obeys, fingers pressing into thighs one last time before resting atop the pillows.  Hips rolling upwards, only once, to drive into Shuichi before surrendering.  The soft lips pout even as the cheeks flush.  His blossom sits up again, fully seated on his cock, only moving with little rolls of his pelvis as he speaks again. 

 

     “Did you think about me, lonely in a strange bed every night?”

 

Shuichi grinds down harder.  Riding more of his length at each word.  “Perhaps you thought it a comfort, when I arrived, to command me.  To pleasure myself exactly to your word.”

 

The soft fingers rise to his own chest.  Teasing a fingertip at each nipple ring before cupping himself.  Thumbs flicking over the rosy buds.  “I wonder.  Did you ever think of telling me to film it?  Or watch it live even as you spoke to me?”  He tugs at the nipples now, his forefingers braced underneath as his thumbs press forward.  Hanzo can feel when Shuichi jerks, loses his rhythm, head thrown back a moment.

 

     “Or did you like imagining it?  Remember so many times together?”

 

He wants to touch him.  To show him the truth with every caress.  But his blossom knows him, knows his thoughts.  Shuichi leans back, bracing his hands against the powerful legs, keeping his body out of reach.  Raising himself until Hanzo almost slips from him before sinking down.  Little adjustments until he finds one that rubs that place inside him.  

 

A powerful motion tips Shuichi further, toppling him onto his back as Hanzo follows. He grips Shu's hair, loose and flyaway and wet with sweat. And silences his teasing mouth with his own. Bites at pretty, pouty lips. And takes. What. Is. His.

 

     "You." He gets an arm under one of Shu's knees, pulls him open. "You think you can tease me? You think you can deny me? No, you want this, don't you. Fill you up. Tell me. You want this don't you, flower?"

The surprise leaves the smaller figure gasping, panting and keening as Hanzo drives into him. He tries to close his legs around his body, but Hanzo holds them in place. "Yes, b-but you denied me so long..."

 

"Tsk, you can endure it. You like it, waiting on my pleasure don't you? You're going to wait now. You don't come ‘til I'm finished with you." He flicks an abused looking nipple, relishing the desperate sound his lover makes. But he has been waiting long enough, and the wet heat around his dick is driving him to distraction. He captures Shu's lips in another devouring kiss, and sees about to taking his pleasure.

His lover cries into his mouth with every thrust. Body desperately seeking to meet him but unable with the tight embrace that surrounds him. Shuichi clings to whatever he can reach, fingers digging into flesh and hair. "Please please please…!"

 

"That's it." Slippery skin smacks as they move together, his cock buried deep. "That's it, you're so good for me." Each thrust is quick, shallow, leaving them pressed up tightly together until the last. Hanzo's hands tighten, pull, breath stopping with pleasure then a gasp. Quick, jerky thrusts as he fills up his lover with come. His heartbeat is pounding hard enough to feel down to his feet as he braces himself on a shaking arm. "Bring yourself off, love. Let me see you."

 

Shuichi nuzzles under his chin, sucking on the soft skin behind his beard before a hand gently tugs at a bandaged one.  Settling it atop the smaller hand as the fingers, shaking, wrap around his cock. Pressing under the head, trying to tease.  Half lidded eyes drinking in his husband’s gaze. But close, too close to last long. Pressing against  Hanzo as he comes at his command, soft cries buried in his shoulder.

 

“Beautiful. So good for me.” Hanzo rests with his weight on his elbows, still connected at the hip while they both pant for breath between kisses and loving touches. Gentle hands soothe the damp hair away from Shuichi’s face. “I’m so happy to finally be with you, dear one.”

     "I know time apart unavoidable at times," Shuichi whispers against the crook of his neck, "But it makes the reunion that much more wonderful." There is a pause, then a soft chuckle directed at himself. Hanzo sighs his agreement. The sentiment is real but the wording, perhaps, corny. Once Shuichi is settled, he asks softly, "We don't have to work today.... Right?"

     “I do not know what duties you have to see to for your role, but as for myself…  The window to strike with the upper hand is short. Seeing as the sun has yet to rise, however, I could be convinced to work by phone for just a bit longer.”  He tucks Shuichi under his arm, unlocking his phone to type a message to Bastion:   _ I trust you to oversee to the tasks _ . “I have a plan I wished to discuss with you. It may involve that cowboy.”

     “Oh?”

“Do you feel up to attending a party, dear wife?”


End file.
